The Color of the Sea
by Kelly Knight
Summary: The power of desire transcends the boundaries of time. COMPLETE
1. The Library

Author's note:

Thanks for reading this story. Let me start by saying that I have written more clichés into this story than any other. The writing is not great and the dialogue needs work, but I am really just trying to get the story told. I am planning on rewriting and revising a lot so bear with me. To that end, if you have any suggestions please let me know. Like many writers I am egotistical and far too self impressed and unfortunately that gets in the way of good writing!

This story is based on _The Iliad, _by the great poet Homer. I love the Iliad and always have, however I am not above taking artistic license with some points in history but the spirit of what could have happened is based on my own knowledge of Greek history and my love of Greek culture.

* * *

THE COLOR OF THE SEA 

The books of the old library smelled musty and the space was cramped in between rows but this was heaven to Alison. She spent more time here than she did in the cramped quarters she called home. The tiny 2 room apartment was jammed full of so many books it almost rivaled the library here. She took a book off the shelf and leafed through the index searching for the right information. She had only two hours before the library closed and she was no closer to the information she needed.

This was the closest to an adventure that Alison had ever had. Her grandfather, a professor of mythology at the local university, had charged her with the finding of a specific text about the mighty warrior Achilles. The text was a reference to the way that Achilles had been raised as a girl on Skiros, and how his mother fought to protect his identity. This kind of work, this bibliography writing, made Alison feel like a detective. She busily wrote hundreds of notes on texts she uncovered and made sure that each one was formatted properly.

She looked at her watch, and realized that she was running late. If she were going to meet her grandfather at the Italian restaurant they so loved, she would have to hurry. The thunderstorm raging outside was going to make catching the bus uptown a wet proposition. She closed all the books in front of her and grabbed her bag filling it with the pencils, pens and notebooks she had been using. Alison took the long way down the stairs so that she could use the bathroom off the rotunda. It seemed silly, but the women's bathroom was a marvel of this library. The imported marble from the Mediterranean and the gold inlay of the mirrors was spectacular.

The bathroom had been a donation by a wealthy patron of the library who apparently thought the library had enough books, but needed some beauty, and so donated a million dollar bathroom. The local papers covered every minute event of the construction from the first piece of marble to arrive to the last tile set. Alison read every report and imagined the history behind the stones and tiles she saw. Her grandfather too had been very interested in some of the bigger columns and the mosaic of tiles. Some of the stones they used to make the floor were three thousand years old.

When Alison entered the bathroom she was again struck by the massive size of the mirror in front of her. There were flecks of gold in the glass itself creating a sparkle effect. The huge columns that stood in the entry way were not crisp but worn by age and Alison couldn't resist the urge to reach out and touch one. The anterior of the room was lit softly and held a small statue of Aphrodite. The ceiling was painted with fresco style panels and a painting of Zeus and the Olympians looked down upon the floor of white tiled stone and marble spattered with bright blue designs. Just to be in this room to Alison, was to feel a connection to the past. The lights dimmed and there was a low humming noise and then a sharp crack. The lights went out and it was pitch black. Back-up lighting flickered for a moment and then settled on casting a very soft glow in the massive room. Alison was nervous but okay. She had been in the library during other power outages.

But then she noticed the leak, the bathroom floor was wet and droplets of water were coming steadily from the ceiling. "Some million dollar piece of work," Alison thought to herself. She carefully walked over tothe mirror but slipped on the floor. Her head hit the tile with a "crack" that she could hear explode in her ears. She lay on the floor of the bathroom and let the water drip on her face. Her back hurt and her head felt as if it were split in two. Slowly she reached up and touched the spot on her head where she had hit the ground. She felt a painful welt and a warm substance she knew at once was blood. She winced painfully. Alison felt dizzy but when she closed her eyes it felt worse so she stared at the ceiling until the feeling passed. Zeus seemed to be looking down upon her and the mighty Ares; god of war had a spear in one hand and a soft woman in the other. Athena watched a deer from a distance; Poseidon held a trident and waded into a sea. But it was the sea nymph Thetis who was dipping her son in the river Styx that caught Alison's attention.

Achilles of course was the infant's name. Alison knew the story so well she could recite it backwards. But this piece of painting was not one that she remembered seeing before. It seemed odd that she had never seen it as Alison was sure she had always studied the painting when she entered the room. But other things had changed too. Zeus was pointing to Thetis and so was Poseidon. Ares' spear was directly aiming at Achilles and somehow even Athena seemed to change her direction of vision. Alison wondered how hard she had hit her head.

When she finally was able to raise herself up, Alison walked over to the mirror. Sure enough, there was a small stream of now clotted blood running down her face. Her yellow hair that always seemed so plain and dull was matted in places and had bright red highlights. Alison almost laughed thinking about how ugly she looked. She had never been pretty in her own opinion. And the addition of blood didn't enhance her features any. Her back ached with an intensity Alison had never felt before. And then Alison was sure that she had a concussion.

The mirror was dim, but transparent images began to float and take shape within it. Smoke clouds appeared and settled and men walked everywhere. They were busily setting up poled structures and carrying wood, spears, arrows and swords everywhere. It was a jumbled mass of confusion but their faces were real enough to touch. And they clothing was so authentic, that Alison felt sure this illusion could only be coming from her head. She knew too well the dress of the Greeks. A face then appeared in the mirror that was breathtakingly beautiful. Alison stepped back slightly. The face reached out and rippled the mirror as if it had touched a pool of water.

Alison stared at the man's face. His jaw was square, his hair was the same color as Alison's and his skin was the color of someone who could afford to spend 3 months a year at Club Med. He was beautiful in a way that defied explanation. Alison involuntarily reached out to touch him. When she touched the mirror, the face stared back. The jolt of realization that the man was looking at her made Alison cry out in surprise. The man reached his hand toward her…

The lights of the library came on in a brilliant flash. The images behind the mirror faded and disappeared. What she had seen was too real, and yet so impossible. She must have hit her head harder than she imagined. She looked at the floor and saw her own blood now seeping into the tile grout. Someone was going to be upset about that she thought. Alison wanted badly to see the man again and understand what was happening in the scene. She looked up at the painting on the ceiling and the gods were back to where they had been in all the times she had seen the painting before. Thetis was missing, and her infant son was no longer being dipped in the river.

Alison grabbed her bag and slowly walked out of the bathroom. She needed to find ice.


	2. Dinner and Death

All three of the buses that Alison took to get to Corina's restaurant seemed to drive far too slowly. She thought about checking in with a doctor, but by the time she left the library she was already feeling better. The lump on her head however would take weeks to settle down. Alison sat trying not to lean her head against the back of the seat and watched through the pouring rain for her stop.

Visions of the scene in the mirror flooded Alison's mind. There was something disturbing about the apparitions she had seen in the mirror. It was amazing how real the mind could make things seem, she thought. And yet Alison was not one to be taken in by anything that didn't have some basis in fact. She opened up her notebook and scribbled some notes about what she had seen but quickly crossed them out. The whole idea was silly and not worth exploring anymore.

Corina's was dry, warm and as always inviting. The rich leather and deep burgundy colors made it one of Alison's favorite places on the planet to eat. Her grandfather was already seated in a corner booth and had a huge plate of noodles and an open bottle of red wine in front of him. Alison waved at him as he looked up and she wove her way through the table and seats toward him.

"Alison! You look dreadful my dear. Wet and is that blood on your face? Were you mugged? Sit! Sit!" her grandfather ordered. His face was a tangle of worry and quizzical expressions.

"I am fine, really," she smiled at sat down. "I just had a spill in the library bathroom."

"You can't resist going in there can you? I have to admit I am jealous. The men got a new coat of beige paint and some Renoir replicas. The women get a million dollars in renovations, antique tiles, marble from Greece and imported paintings!" Her grandfather studied her carefully. "Are you sure you are okay? You look shaken. Come closer and let me look at you."

Alison obediently leaned closer. Her grandfather dipped a cloth napkin in water from his glass and washed the area around the lump on her head. Alison winced painfully but she was grateful for the attention and the care. For 15 years it had been this way; her grandfather, Alexander Cavallo, had raised her. And now at age 20, he was still the caregiver and she was still the child. The roles were so easy to slip into.

Alison ordered linguini and clam sauce and drank several glasses of the red wine. By the time the Tiramisu arrived at the table, she felt wonderfully free. They talked about the research she had done, and she talked about her classes.

"I have your class next semester," Alison giggled.

"You know more Greek history than I do Alison. I should just give you an A now and be done with it," Alexander said smiling.

"Greek history. I spend so much time thinking about it, that I see visions of it!" Alison scoffed. "When I hit my head in the bathroom, I swear I saw the painting on the ceiling change. I saw Thetis and her son, and all the gods were pointing to them as she dipped him in the river." Alison looked up at her grandfather and noting the worried look on his face quickly added: "It changed back." But somehow that sounded worse than what she had admitted before.

"Alison, perhaps you should see a doctor?" her grandfather said seriously.

"I am fine. It was just a funny vision." Alison forced a laugh but her grandfather looked just as serious.

"Come home with me tonight and I'll make you some warm cocoa and make up your old room," he said reaching across the table to hold her hand. "I am a little worried about you in that apartment all by yourself. There is no one to look out for you. Not even a boy friend to keep you company," Alexander watched as Alison blushed.

"_Pappous! Stamato_!" Alison exclaimed. This was an old discussion and not one she felt like having tonight. Her love life, or lack of it, had always been a difficult subject. Her grandfather believed that she was far too young and beautiful to spend her life in the company of old professors, university lackeys, and ancient books. He encouraged her to get out and see the world and his constant nagging about finding a boyfriend had started when she was 15 and hadn't ended since. Alison was not interested. She found most men to be boring and simple. Dating was not something she embraced.

"I'll stop, but _oraios enas_, come with you old _pappous_ and let me dote on you tonight." Alexander said.

"I'll be okay, and besides I have a very early appointment with my advisor." She rose to go and took out her wallet.

"Save you money Alison," Alexander sighed. "And visit the doctor for me in the morning will you?"

Alison nodded. "I'll call you in the morning," she said leaning down to kiss him on the cheek.

It was the last time Alison saw her grandfather alive.

* * *

At 3 AM the call came from St. Francis' hospital. The voice on the other end of the phone asked her if she was related to Alexander Cavallo.

"Yes. Is everything okay?" Alison asked with rising tension.

"Can you come to the emergency room right away?" the voice asked.

Alison didn't waste any more time asking question. "Yes," she replied and quickly hung up the phone.

She hastily dressed, threw a jacket on and ran outside to hail a cab. At 3 AM there were none to be found and the buses were not running either so she ran the three block to the hospital. As the automatic doors opened to the Emergency Room Alison's lungs felt as if they were on fire. She was winded, but the adrenaline surge she felt when the phone call had come had not diminished.

"I…am…here to see…Alexander Cavallo," Alison rasped in between titanic gulps of air. She was escorted to a small room where a doctor explained why they hadn't been able to save him. A massive heart attack and a massive stroke had caused his heart to stop and his brain functions to cease.

Alison's knees refused to support her weight and she fell to the floor on them. Sadness in the truest form descended on Alison's very soul. She cried but for some reason she couldn't quite allow herself to believe completely that he was gone. "May I see him?"

She was escorted into a small room where her grandfather was lying in a gurney. He had wires attached to his body and he was surrounded by pieces of machinery. Everything in the room felt cold and hard. The nurse, who had escorted her to her grandfather, left the room. Alison removed the wires and the tape then sat in a chair beside him holding his hand for over an hour.

* * *

In the days the followed her grandfather's death, Alison learned the true meaning of being alone. The hundreds of people, who had assembled to say their final farewells to Alexander Cavallo, barely knew her. They hugged her or gave an obligatory nod, expressed their deepest sympathy's and left their names in the guest book, but by the end of the funeral, Alison was once again the solitary entity she was when she had first arrived. She sat in the front pew of the massive cathedral that she and her grandfather had come to every Sunday for 15 years and stared at the casket. The priest looked on but said nothing. In just a few short hours his body would be under the ground and she would never see him again.

Alison rose slowly and went to the casket. "Goodbye _pappous_," she wept. She turned to leave but then at the last minute she placed the ancient Greek coin given to her as a child, on his forehead.


	3. Mirrors and Meetings

Alison sank into a deep apathy. Eating was a chore, dressing was a monumental task and the very act of breathing at times was difficult to sustain. Alison's body hurt with a residual pain so deep that nothing could cure. She stopped going to classes. She stopped reading. She stopped all contact with the outside world. After the lawyers had cleaned up all the paper work for Alison regarding her grandfather's estate, there was no one left to talk to.  
  
For the better part of 6 months, Alison lived a wretched existence. She closed up her little apartment and moved into the sprawling home that she and her grandfather had shared for so many years. The daily reminders of him were everywhere and sometimes she would open a room and feel his presence. Cooking meals would evoke powerful memories as well, so take out became the standard fare. About the only thing that brought her any comfort was the small gym that her grandfather had recently installed. The irony of the gym was horrific to Alison. It had been purchased on the advice of her grandfather's doctor to lower his risk of a heart attack. Now the equipment served as Alison's private world where she would spend 3 hours a day running the treadmill, lifting weights and using the Cybex equipment. Her body transformed, and slowly her mind began to follow suit.  
  
It was just before the Christmas holiday when Alison began to feel much better. The bitter sting of grief lifted a little and while she still had no friends to speak of, she did begin attending classes again, and took a job as a research assistant for another member of the university staff. She resolved to at least attempt to be social a few times a month so the invitation to a large party by her new employer was a welcome one.  
  
She spent the better part of a week getting ready by purchasing a beautiful holiday gown of deep blue velvet and beautiful gold trim. She spent the day at a spa where she was pampered for 8 solid hours with a variety of services from electrolysis, to massage, to a mud bath. She even spent $100 on a hair cut and style from a salon in the city. Every fiber of her being was attended to and by the time the night of the party arrived, Alison felt truly wonderful.  
  
The party was across the street from the library in the American Legion Hall. There was a light snow falling as Alison arrived in a cab. The front of the building was lit up with lights that twinkled in random patterns and there was a stream of guests entering the main doorway. Alison paid the cab driver and looked wistfully across the street at the library. She glanced at her shiny new watch; there was still 20 minutes left until the library closed and the guests were still milling about waiting to enter the main hall of the American Legion. Alison waited for the cab to pull away from the curb and then crossed the street to the library. She would freshen up her make-up in the bathroom and then go to the party.  
  
The library was empty, the late hour and the falling snow had emptied the place early in the night, Alison guessed. She shook off some of the snow on her jacket and stamped her foot hard. Her nylon stockings were now soaking wet as were her shoes. She passed the librarian who completely ignored her and remained engrossed in a piece of microfiche. Her feet took her through the rotunda and to the bathroom that she loved so much. As hard as it was for her to believe, she hadn't been in the wonderful room since the night of ... Alison stopped herself but felt a creeping darkness descend. She still missed her grandfather so much. The small stain where she had hit her head and bled on the floor still stained the grout, proclaiming to all who looked how clumsy she had actually been.  
  
Alison took off her shoes and her jacket and walked to the mirror. He make- up was still perfect and her hair although slightly damp in places still looked good. Alison admired her own reflection before realizing how foolish she really was being. But she had changed. Six months ago the person looking in this mirror was a thin wispy woman, wearing no make-up and had hair pulled back in a haphazard barrette. The woman in the mirror now had muscle, wonderful hair pulled up in a neat braid and coloring that highlighted her face. She felt radiant, if a little silly for noticing. She powdered her cheeks and applied a thin layer of lipstick, making a puckering kiss on some tissue when she was through. She walked across the room to the trashcan. Something caught her eye. Something was different in the room. Alison couldn't quite place it. Something was missing, or had been added. She looked around the room and a cold chill crept up her spine. Water dripped from the ceiling as it had the last time she was here and when Alison looked up at the painting. It was arranged as it had been the night she hit her head.  
  
"I am losing my mind," she said to the room. "This is impossible." She closed her eyes hard and took a few deep breaths but the painting remained changed. Thetis and her son were the focal point. Alison suddenly felt a strong urge to leave, as if there was impending doom. She heard voices, shouting in the distance and impossibly, the voices were in a dialect of Greek Alison had never heard before. Alison stepped over the puddle of water and tried to put her shoes on. The voices were louder and as she approached the mirror, the man Alison had seen before, reappeared. He looked directly at her again, his face was a mask of anger. His eyebrows were knotted above his eyes in a way only people who are angry can make their eyes appear. He reached through the mirror. Alison jumped back and turned to grab her coat. This was not real, she thought. She was having a delusion of some kind. Alison vowed to leave and never come back, she turned to get her coat off the counter to her right and hit her nose on the corner of the wall. A bright red spot made one huge dot on the floor and then another. Alison cursed and tipped her head back. Within seconds her mouth was filled with blood and she couldn't breathe. She knew something was seriously wrong. Her legs were weak and as she tipped her head back further to keep the blood from staining her dress. She was afraid to look toward the mirror. Alison gurgled and tasted salt. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor. Her eyes stung and her vision rippled. She needed to take a breath but there was pressure on her chest that prevented her from breathing. The drip from the ceiling landed directly on her head and was followed quickly by a second and then a third. Soon a stream poured on her head and then a wall of water hit her face. She momentarily blacked out.

* * *

Alison coughed hard and took in a deep breath as if it were the first she had ever taken. She was being carried out of water by strong arms. It was the man from the mirror.  
  
"Do you hate me so much that you would drown rather than bed me? This makes twice I have had to save you from a watery grave and twice that I have had to jump into the sea at dusk after you."  
  
"Who are you?" Alison asked but the second that she formed a word she realized that it was not an English word. She was thinking in another language, but she knew it was not her own. And when she looked her own body, it was not the body of Alison Cavallo, it was someone else's form. This body was leaner and longer than Alison had ever been. A moment of sheer panic built up inside of her. She struggled and kicked as hard as she could, wanting to get down and feel the ground under her feet.  
  
"Not again, my prize. You are going to warm my bed tonight whether it be willing or not. Although I prefer willing," the man said. "And my name should roll from your lips like sand from a dry rock. You beg me often enough for favors of your own don't you?"  
  
Alison shook her head trying to clear it. He spoke and she understood, but it was not English. It was Greek. "Please," said Alison. "You must listen to me. I am not who you think I am." She paused thinking of the ridiculousness of that phrase. He obviously knew who she was; it was she who didn't know who she was! There was a nightmarish feel to this situation that seemed all too vivid. Alison was sure that she was still in the library lying on the floor. But dreaming lucidly like this was not something she remembered doing before. Everything was far too real. Even the sand on her feet felt gritty and ... present.  
  
"You are Chloe, slave of Achilles," the man said.  
  
Alison's head began to spin hard. A dizzy feeling unlike any she had ever known before took what little strength she had away. Achilles, of all the ridiculous men to think of, she silently thought. She WAS dreaming, or having some kind of unconscious vision. She felt that the best thing to do was just allow the dream to happen.  
  
The man carried her into a shelter that was dug halfway into the sand. He set her down and handed her a cloth that was rough.  
  
"Dry yourself," the man commanded. "Why do you fight what you know is eventual." His use of the word eventual sounded odd, and Alison wondered lazily if she just didn't understand the word in Greek. This dream was bordering on the sublime.  
  
The man handed, Alison a small knife. "If you really wish to end your life at least do it on dry land. Or do you wish to be Poseidon's bride?"  
  
Alison took the knife but immediately threw it down. It was caked with someone else's dried blood. Alison felt nauseous.  
  
"I am glad you won't be leaving me tonight," the man said taking the knife back.  
  
"Who are you?" Alison asked. If this dream was to make any further sense, she had to assign him a name.  
  
The man looked at her carefully, for a long time. "Are you playing a game with me? If you are, I am not amused and I don't understand why you play it. You don't look well. Has your aversion to me grown instead of diminished?"  
  
Alison struggled for the right words. The way he looked at her made her feel uncomfortable and awkward. "I really do not know who you are." Alison managed. His face was strong and his arms were broad in a way Alison had never seen before. Something was shifting in this dream. An almost imperceptible line of reality edged into Alison's mind.  
  
The man sat next to Alison. "Chloe," he whispered, running his hand through her hair. His lips brushed hers.  
  
"I will wake," Alison said aloud. The sheer desire coming from the man was almost palpable. And to make matters worse Alison could feel her body responding to him. His breath in her ear, the feel of his hands on her neck and the feel of his lips on her face ignited a small fire deep within her. And as hard as she tried to shake it, the sensation of this man's skin would not dissipate.  
  
Panic again raced through her form, but Alison stifled a laugh; this was a dream, and she would wake. And if in the interim, she dreamed of sleeping with a man as beautiful as this one, why not let it happen? At least she would have a wonderful tale to remember when she awoke.  
  
She kissed back. 


	4. Sleeping with a Stranger

The intensity of kisses on her body flamed the small fire of passion within Alison. Small inconsistent actions took place in her body. When he set his lips on her shoulder, Alison shuddered hard; a reaction she never felt before. The two experiences with men she had were nothing close to this. An odd sensation of being a spectator, but one who felt what she saw, snuck up on her. She was disconnected from the experience, but still felt every caress and every touch.

Alison kept wandering back and forth between feeling disconnected, and feeling as if she were a part of this dream on an intrinsic deep level.

"I am glad that you are more _compliant _than you were the last time," the man softly said in her ear. He was twisting long slow circles of her hair around his fingers and gently releasing them. He pulled away and picked up a vessel with a small handle on it and poured a thin red liquid into a cup. He handed it to Alison.

Alison drank deeply from the cup. It tasted sweet but bitter. It was wine but it was watery and very warm. It slid down her throat quietly. She studied the cup for a moment. It was a perfect artifact. The pottery was an exquisite shape and weight and the design on the outside of the cup was a repeating black and brown pattern. Alison complimented herself on the perfection of her imagination. She took another deep drink of the wine and looked at the "room".

"This is simply exquisite," she breathed. "Everything is so perfectly real." A small bronze statue of a wolf sat in one dark area of the tent structure. The structure itself was beautiful although the smell of leather and sweat and a thousand other odors assault her at once. Another element of realism drove a deep spike of an almost familiar feeling of panic.

"Real is how it should be," the man said looking puzzled. "I have to ask you why. Why have you become so _withdrawn_? What happened between you and the carpenter? And why do you refuse my call?"

Alison shook her head. "I wish I knew. But I don't." An unbidden image of a man standing on the bow of a ship leaning over the side smiling suddenly sprang into her mind. His name was Nikostratos and his eyes were the color of the sea. A sudden wave of intense emotion crashed over her. Alison wondered how she could have a vision inside a dream.

"Why then do you look pale, when I mention him? Do not find yourself at the mercy of my good will Chloe because it is in short supply," the man's face looked terse.

"I don't know what you mean. I mean this is nothing but a dream; you are an apparition of my _imagination_ and I am clueless about what I am supposed to do here." Alison said. "And why you call me Chloe is beyond me as well. My name is Alison." This experience was now spiraling out of control. "And I still don't know who you are."

"Chloe! You will desist. You speak in riddles and you are hurting my head. I have no desire to play your games. I warn you now to stay away from that man. You are my _slave_ and I paid for your companionship. If I tell you to avoid the carpenter, you will do so. You are not the only woman who holds sway over me. Or perhaps you would like to be presented at the city gates as an offering to the soldiers of _them_?" A rather horrific look spread across the man's face. The beauty Alison had seen before vanished.

Again an image intruded into Alison's thoughts. A small army of men in solid lines and dull armor stood in the brilliant sun. They cheered, or yelled, Alison was not sure which one. And a lone woman stood before them. The word offering came to her mind. Alison stood up. Her hair was still damp and her clothes were not dry and a chill was in the air. She shivered a little. If this was a dream, or a vision, or an unconscious hallucination, Alison was tired of it. It wasn't fun anymore.

She walked past the man and pushed aside the flap of the tent. The sun was already sinking into the ocean but the unmistakable form of hundreds of people could be easily seen. Voices could be heard from everywhere and for a moment there was a confusing tangle of words being spoken. Alison couldn't concentrate on any one direction. She felt herself being lifted off the ground. The sensation made her slightly dizzy.

"I warned you my patience was in short supply," the man said as he brought her into the tent again. "Have you lost all sense? Willing or not is what I said."

Alison was suddenly afraid. The feeling of his fingers gripping her shoulders hurt. It wasn't dream pain; it was real pain that radiated into her shoulders and down her arm. Her vision crystallized as if a film had been lifted from her eyes. And realization established a firm hold on her mind: She was not dreaming.

The library. What had happened in the library? She had no time to think about it. The man's hands were upon her with unyielding force. A confusion of the worst kind scattered her thoughts in a hundred directions as he kissed her and stripped the wet dress she wore off.

"Don't do anything foolish or you will feel the pain for days Chloe," the man said. "Please me and I will give you whatever you want, fight me and I will deny your requests. The choice is simple and yours."

Alison willed herself to be calm. If something were at work here greater than a dream, she would have to reconcile it but at this moment she needed to keep anything horrific from happening. Her mind raced quickly: He knew her. He knew her as Chloe. He controlled her somehow. She, as Chloe needed something from him and he would provide it only if …  She had to make a decision quickly. Alison turned off the inhibition of having sex with a stranger off, the best she could. To fight, in any reality would be senseless at this moment. She could not even think straight enough to know what kind of reality she was in much less how her actions would affect it.

"I'll do what you say I should," Alison said at long last. She studied the man's face again. It seemed impossible to tell how old he was, but his eyes were dark blue and piercing, his hair was blond but slightly dull and his lips were thin but perfectly balanced. In fact, everything about this man was a blended balance of symmetry. It didn't take long for the ember of desire to burn again inside of her.

"Wise," he said.

Sex was not something Alison understood very well, but the body of the women she inhabited now, reacted in ways Alison had only read about in cheap romance novels. It was not even possible to form into words how she felt after making love to him. A primal need coupled with an abandon of reason and heightened sense of feeling drove her to the edge of pleasure and beyond so many times, that she lost count. Her body ached with a kind of pain that actually felt good. The two men she had slept with before were nothing but diminished shadows compared to this man's skill as a lover.

Exhaustion in its purest, truest form came crashing down on Alison midway through the night and by morning she felt as if she needed another full night of sleep. She squinted her eyes at the brilliant sun streaming through the open flap of the tent. She was alone and her body hurt but the ache was a welcome reminder of what had transpired during the night.

However, the fact that she felt anything at all was again a reason for concern. The abandonment of sense and sensibility last night did not change the fact that there was something dynamic at work here. She had slept. That was proof enough that something real was happening. Alison again tried to remember what had happened in the library. For a fraction of a second she could not remember why she was there. But then she saw the image of the snow, and the rotunda, the painting and Thetis. She hit her nose, there was blood and she couldn't breathe. Water. She remembered the water but where had it come from.

She stood up from the floor of fur and course blankets and studied "Chloe's" body closely. Her arms were long and had scratches in them that were red and raised. But the muscle tone in them was foreign. She was thinner than her frame should be. She had a scar on her left leg that extended from her knee around the back of her leg to her calf. Her hair was long and now that it was dry she could see that it was a golden brown color. Her breasts were smaller but her hips seemed somehow wider.

Alison found the dress she had been wearing and clasped it at the neck on both sides. It was a long tunic style piece of fabric that was a light brown with dark green threads sewn into it. 

The man with whom she had spent the night with, stood in the entryway. "I will see you in a few days," he said and vanished from sight.

Alison had no idea what to do or where to go.


	5. Chloe

Alison tried to call the man back but as she ran up to the open tent flap he disappeared into a broad line of men. The very edge of insanity was upon her. The connection she had with reality was that man and now he was gone. How was this happening? She wasn't dreaming, that much was for sure and if what she was experience was a prolonged hallucination then why didn't things change when she willed them to? Why was there so much structure and order to the events around her? Why was the heat on her face so real?

"Chloe!" a woman's voice said. The woman gripped her arm gently and looked in the direction of the men. "Don't lose your sense to that one, Chloe. _Slave _though you may be to him, his heart belongs to another and you know it well."

"Who is he?" Chloe asked carelessly. "I am his _slave_? How did I become his _slave_?" The word _slave_ did not sound right.  "Who are you?" Too late to stop them, Alison realized that she was asking questions she should know.

"Chloe, you are not well are you? Have you had anything to eat? Come and we'll eat before the day's work. They go to fight, our peace will not last more than a few days. Your arm! I have oil. You will scar if we don't take care of it now." The woman gently pulled Chloe through the sand. They walked for about 15 minutes until they reached a large structure that was obviously a boat driven into the sand. The mid section of the boat was covered with beige colored cloth that obscured most of the deck but the hull was still visible.

They climbed up a small rope ladder and on the deck of the boat at least 20 other women had gathered. They were all eating from platters and talking. Alison felt that all eyes were on her. They whispered and laughed. Alison was sure that she must have done something odd to illicit this reaction. She blushed lightly. Her hair flew in her face. She could feel the heat in her face rising and the memory of the night sent a chill down her spine. She struggled for the right word but none seemed to work. 

"He favors you now," a woman said softly. "It is not my fault you are _hetaerae_. He pays for you and you entertain him, or jump into the sea," she snickered. "How long are you in his service?" Alison saw tears in the woman's eyes. She loved him, Alison thought instinctively. And she was hurt.

Alison didn't know what to say to her. He paid for her? The word slave suddenly changed to _hetaerae_ in her mind as the language settled into context.

The woman Alison had met on the beach come forward and again gently pulled Alison's arm. She led her into a small curtained area off the main deck of the ship. It was sparsely furnished with blankets and furs and small chests that were draped with fabric. Urns and a large vase filled the center of the room and an empty basin stood off to one side of the chamber. A light breeze tugged at the edges of the fabric that formed the walls but they remained firmly rooted in place under large stones.

"Mimis?" Alison attempted. She knew this woman's name!

"Yes? You are very lucky to have his favor right now. Things are not going well and the war continues to test the patience of everyone. The High King is restless and men continue to die," she said pouring water into a basin.

"Whom do I have favor with?" Alison asked accepting a cloth filled with tepid water. She brushed it over her face and then gently washed the scratches on her arms.

"Achilles of course. Who did you think I was speaking of?" Mimis asked. She took a bottle of oil and mixed it with a waxy substance and began to spread it on Alison's arm.

Alison had the feeling that she was going to be sick. That was the second time she had heard his name, and the now the pieces of what she heard were coming together. The painting in the library showed Thetis with her infant son, Achilles and on the day she first hit her head, she had been studying the origin of the story behind how Achilles had been disguised as a girl to keep him out of the Trojan War.

"You have grown pale again. Chloe, I don't like to see you like this. Did you suffer something? Are you ill? I can not help you if you don't tell me what is wrong." Mimis pulled Alison to the ground. "Lie down," she said quietly. "That man seems to have this effect on women. What did you speak of? Did you recite a poem for him? Tell him a story? Sing?" Mimis continued to question her. "Breisies is jealous, do not let her bother you. She is his concubine, but you hold favor over his mind."

Alison would have laughed if the strength to do so had. If that were holding favor over his mind, he would kill her with his passion if he wanted her body. More images came forth. A parade of images flickered before her eyes and there was memory attached to them. He name was Chloe and she was a _hetaera_, or a highly paid courtesan. Men paid for the pleasure of her company. They paid her to sing, recite poetry, argue intellectual points of philosophy and generally be a companion. Sex was only sometimes a part of the arrangement.

Alison's thoughts were her own, but her memories were shared with this woman Chloe. Where was Chloe? Alison could hardly breathe; the thought that she was being assimilated into this hallucination was becoming hard to resist. There was simply too much order to the world for it to be something other than a reality. And certainly she had read enough science fiction to formulate an idea about a time passage, a portal, and a key to unlock it and even a way to get back.

But getting back seemed like an odd thought. To admit that she was going to try and return would mean that she had accepted the fact she was somewhere other than the library. Alison let her thoughts calm down and focused on a point in the sky and took several deep breaths.

"Achilles…" Alison said aloud. "We did not talk, recite poetry or sing, Mimis. I barely said two words to him. I think he was interested in something else last night." This time Alison did smile.

Mimis looked shocked "You are not a common whore Chloe, he pays you as a _hetaera._ He has Breisies for that!" Mimis poured wine into a cup and then placed it by Alison's head. "That man causes more trouble than any other, I think," she said sitting down. "Are you going to sleep for a while?" Mimis asked tipping her own head back against a chest.

Suddenly, Alison sat up. "Who is the carpenter Mimis?" Alison asked not able to find more of that memory anywhere.

"Nikostratos? That situation I do not understand. You have been paid in advance to entertain Achilles and kings. You have no time to spend time with a man who will never afford your services. It angers Achilles and you know it. Is that why you ran away from him? Because of Nikostratos? Chloe, the gods have removed your ability to reason."

Alison took another deep breath. Nikostratos. She tried to concentrate on the name, but images would not appear. She instead concentrated on history. Mimis said Achilles and she said Breisies. They were on a beach on a boat: The Trojan War. She mentally catalogued all the facts she knew about the Trojan War while trying to remember to weed out the fictional anecdotes. It would be a monumental task. Visions of a voyage over the sea came to Alison. The voyage suffered a massive storm and a broken sail. Poseidon had cursed the journey, Alison heard a voice say, because the boat carried women that wives of the soldiers of Greece hated the most.

"Chloe? Do you need anything before I leave? I will get us something to eat and then I will fix your hair. While the men are gone, you can recite to me to practice." Mimis brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. "I have never complained about anything you have done Chloe, I am your slave and a loyal one always, but I see danger here. Achilles favors you, use it!"

Alison said, "Thank you Mimis. I am hungry." She watched the young girl leave the room. If Alison was going to survive with her wits in tact, she was going to have to allow things to flow from now on. The back and forth feelings of realism vs. hallucination were causing a war in her head that blocked out everything else. Until she had something more solid to grasp about this place and her position in it, she would have allow events to happen and she would have to participate.


	6. Chloe Part II

The hours it took to "beautify" were endless. The hair brushing, the endless washing, the careful application of oil on the skin and the attention to detail of clothing took up most of the day. The rest of the day was spent reading, and learning stories to recite. It was a lot of hard work, brushing and arranging her hair took hours. Mimis talked endlessly about hundreds of topics. The ocean gleamed in the sunset by the time she was done.

A woman opened peered inside the small structure of curtains and announced, "The King of Ithaca requests your _attention_."

Mimis hastily walked out of the entrance without saying a word to Alison. A man walked into the curtained chamber and sat down, as if he had been there several time before. "The weather is fine today."

"It is fine and the sea is calm." Alison replied, hoping that she was speaking properly. This man was truly kingly. His clothes were a brilliant blue color and his head held a small circlet of leaves and a long gold bar. He had no beard and the sun had bronzed his face. He hands were large and his fingernails were clean. And even in a relaxed position, his back was straight. The King of Ithaca was Odysseus. Alison tried to chisel every detail of his face into her mind.

"I see you have wasted no time inciting him again." He leaned forward. "But what you asked for is not within my power. Are you wishing to renegotiate the terms of our agreement?"

Alison thought fast. The terms of their agreement could be anything. And if what she remember about the _hetaerae_ was correct, any kind of entertainment could be a part of it.

"The arrangements of our contract? Which part?" asked Alison.

Odysseus tilted his head slightly and looked at Alison with a puzzled expression. "The only part that would make you richer than you are now, my fair woman."

"Recite for me again the terms and I will think on the nature of them," Alison said feigning indifference and resting her head on a small pillow behind her. The momentary feeling of being in a play descended but then quickly dissipated.

"Always the strategist. If you had been born a man, I should like to have had you as a commander of my armies."

Alison looked back toward him. He shifted a little and glanced at the vase of wine. Alison quickly poured him some and brought it to him. "You are slow with hospitality today, Achilles bored you all night with senseless conversation about being free?"

"Achilles did not…" Alison stopped herself. Speaking of any man to another was dangerous and in this situation, Alison did not know what kind of information they shared. "I was not bored," Alison said smiling coyly.

"Your going to cause trouble here. I beg you again to consider my offer, take the money and leave on the next ship. You are Athenian; you do not belong amidst this rabble calling themselves an army. The women he chases do not fare well Chloe."

Alison contemplated a response. "I will think on your offer, but for now I am here to stay. Achilles is not the only man that is harmful to women." Alison felt she playing the part well so far.

"You have been employed by him, that much I can see, but the discord this will cause has effects elsewhere, that you may not see." Odysseus frowned.

"How so?" Alison asked quietly.

"He can't be distracted. And you are distracting him, along with… You distract many people here." Odysseus looked directly at Alison.

"I distract you?" asked Alison. There was nothing in history to indicate that a woman like Chloe had changed anything, but the idea that she was conversing with some like Odysseus was exciting in its own right.

"Beauty and grace, charm and wit in one woman are a deadly combination that men can not resist, and women will hate. But now that Achilles had paid for the pleasure of you company, you have the potential to be very dangerous," Odysseus said narrowing his gaze.

"Have I offended you somehow? What have I done to anger you and Achilles so?" Alison asked honestly.

"Me? You make me nervous not angry, dear Chloe. But then I don't pine to hear you sing, and I don't long to hear you tell me a story with that beautiful voice of yours and I don't believe that you have anything I want," he said. "But Achilles has grown quite attached to your wit and the spark behind your deep blue eyes. Apparently you do not like him do you? He paid you vast treasure, which you returned to him, and then when you ignored him and allowed Archero to purchase your services, he almost killed the man. I would say it was wise that you eventually relented. I can't afford to loose Archero as a general."

Alison felt the warm rush of a memory sweep through her. Achilles had indeed wanted to purchase her service as an entertainer, but his mind was on war and pain, not politics and literature. He had no cultural sense, and his men were not much better. Chloe it seemed was a bit of a snob who preferred the company of older men with a sense of beauty and a love of art.  Achilles had been enraged when he heard about her slight and the reason he turned her down. He vowed to her that no other man would pay for her while he was there to prevent it. Chloe was not a woman to be challenged and she accepted the very next proposal.

Archero paid her for evenings of song and dance. Many nights and in advance. On the first night of their arrangement, at a gathering of generals and leaders, Achilles, after seeing Chloe with Archero attacked him and accidentally hit Chloe in the process. But when he turned to see who he had hit the rage on his face was so fierce and upsetting that Chloe had jumped into the ocean to escape him. Achilles had jumped in after her.

Achilles bartered something for Chloe with Archero and bought her services for the nights originally purchased. And so Chloe was stuck in the service of Achilles. To make matters worse, on the night that he took Chloe with him to his tent, Breisies had pleaded with him not to employer her. She wept and wailed until someone took her away. A song, a slow dance to entertain him and a long very drawn out conversation about why beauty was prized was the highlight of the evening. When she left, he had said clearly. "The next time, we meet I will demand more from you and you will attend me, willing or not." A terrible taste formed in her mouth as the memory faded. He was truly a man with little to like.

The memory ceased and Alison felt dizzy once again. She tried to stand but she faltered.

"Are you ill? Chloe?" a voice from far away seemed to call her. She cleared her head slowly and found herself being held by the Ithaca king. She disentangled her body from his and stood firmly on the ground.

"I am fine thank you. And I do promise to think about you offer, but if you want to hold me further it will cost dearly," she said forcing a quick smile.

Odysseus laughed. "You would cost me more than I have to spare at the moment fair woman. Your beauty may well be one of a kind but unless I am wrong, men who want the pleasure of your company will have to anger the very man no one wants to anger. So I will worship you instead from afar." He took her arm and placed it on his shoulder and led her to a small seat. "It looks like you need rest, and I have matters myself to attend to." He strode out of the chamber.

Mimis immediately came back in. "That one is dangerous too," she said quietly.

"He is powerful." Alison said wondering why she said it. Mimis looked very worried.

"Please do not try to make him favor you, I have grown accustomed to fine food and exceptional clothing," she said then added quickly: "It was out of place for me to say that I know. I beg your forgiveness." Mimis kneeled.

Alison mentally recreated a scene from ancient Greece. Chloe was a powerful woman if she owned a slave but that power was most likely tenuous. To allow a slave insolent speech would never have been allowed.

Alison looked sternly at Mimis. "It is not your place to say," she said as forcefully as she could. While she wanted to maintain the relationship of master and slave, she also needed Mimis to guide her through this world.

Late in the evening she dined on light fruit and gritty bread. Alison again took a mental inventory of what she knew about the proper etiquette for a hetaera. She had a lot of work to do mentally to prepare her for this role. Some things she knew she could do; reciting poetry would be easy and singing was second nature but dancing might be a harder skill to master. The other part of "entertaining" would be harder to reconcile. It was difficult to put aside her inhibition the first night and her sense of confusion (that she now neatly pushed aside every time it reared its head) had contributed to her ability to be with a man she didn't know. But if this was an expected behavior, Alison was going to have a hard time with it. It wouldn't be long before she would need to "entertain" again, and somehow Alison would have to make a choice about how to handle it.

A week passed quickly. Alison's days were spent learning new dances, and exhausting herself running and lifting a chest with rocks in it. It was similar to being at the gym, she thought once, but now the word gym meant something different. She trained herself to answer to Chloe and when Mimis called her, she no longer hesitated; she would turn immediately to her name.

Alison learned the fine art of applying a white powder to her face that made her slightly pale, but it was off set but a mixture of bee's wax and a red liquid. She learned how to highlight her eyes using charcoal as well, but mainly it was Mimis who saw to these things. She also learned that she had two other slaves. Both of them were men, and neither of them was seen often. They tended to the fires, repaired her chamber when needed, and worked with a group of other slaves during the day making wooden spears. A small amount of food was received for the work her slaves did.

A ship arrived mid-week and three chests were unloaded for her and placed in her quarters. One of the chests came with a letter from a woman who claimed to be her mother. It was filled with cloth and dyes. The second chest contained a supply on woven material and the third contained some papers with poems and news of the world of Greece in them. Someone had taken a great deal of time to explain what was happening in Athens, in government and in what was being told to others about Troad which Alison knew to be the region called Troy. But her most prized possession of the three chests was a large skin. It was sewn together in three places making it a massive soft sensation. When the last of the items had been removed, a final gift arrived: A bed and a massive tent. Alison had no idea whom it was from or why it was here, but it was welcome.

She set her male slaves to work immediately to post the tent after checking with a man who Mimis had said controlled the space the camp used. Her sense of direction was not very good, and the man laughed when she requested that she be allowed to set up the tent far away from Achilles. The work took the better part of two days. The poles were secured in the sand and then braced to each other and the wall of the tent with heavy twine. It was not a standard tent, as Alison understood the word tent; this tent was a kind of roundhouse. The partitioned the tent with the heavy fabric she had received and then set up the bed. There were four posts to the bed and a platform they attached to. The mattress was a heavy fabric that was stuffed with feathers. After sleeping on the hard floor of the ship, lying on this mattress was truly an indulgent experience.

The chests were turned into tables and small backless chairs were brought in as well. The urns and the basin followed. Alison beamed with pride when it was complete. The mood however did not last long. Two hours after they finished setting up the tent, word had come that Achilles was returning. He had been victorious and there was to be a celebration in a day's time.


	7. Victory

The sun overhead was a brilliant mass of flaming heat that assaulted the very presence of all who dared to be under it. There were flies everywhere and the stench of the dead flesh hung in the air heavily. Despite the victory a feeling of helpless sadness was everywhere.

Alison burned incense and had Mimis fan her with giant peacock feathers. She read hungrily the texts of Athenian news and she connected with the woman who was called mother. Her letters were a sad reminder of how desperate life really was for women. A prick of reality stung Alison as she read it.

My fair and beautiful daughter;

It is with great sadness that I bring you news of your sister's death. Her husband assures me that she died of natural causes and suffered only minor discomfort. The child died as well. He has asked for another child's hand in marriage just today. We all loved her, and we will all miss her, but she died in the most honorable way and will be certainly well rewarded in the afterlife.

I hope you fare well. I received you gifts of coins. I have sent you what you requested and took the _pleasure_ of sending your bed. In your last response, you sounded distressed over the politics of the situation. I urge you to remember who you are and comply with the men there. You are there to earn, not to play the games of kings and war. You are not in Athens and these men are not the refined men you are accustomed to. You are hetaerae but you are not indispensable. Please keep yourself beautiful and do not become dull. These things will keep you well, alive and rich.

If you become unsettled with your life in the desert of Troad, please send me word without haste, I will find you passage home. You are missed. And symposiums are not the same without you, so I hear.

Care for yourself well.

Alison put the letter down and felt a small tear form. Someone loved Chloe.

"There are dead everywhere," Mimis said after returning from a water mission. "They will burn tonight but tomorrow will be special. You will dine with the kings in celebration of the sacking of Ilior."

"And have to face Achilles. Maybe I can find a way to avoid him," Alison said dryly.

Mimis gasped. But since the last tongue lashing about knowing her place, she had been oddly silent.

"What would you do Mimis?" Alison asked letting Mimis braid her hair.

"Me?" Mimis brushed hard. "I am not one to ask that question, I am not beautiful and I am simple. I have no charm. But I suppose I would not want him to talk as much as he does." Mimis giggled.

"Is that because you want him to do other things?" Alison laughed.

"My lady Chloe! No! I would never think of having that man in my bed. He loves himself I hear which is why he enjoys the company of those who look like him. And that is why he likes you. You both have golden hair and have blue eyes. You seem very physically compatible." Mimis smiled.

Alison shuddered. The thought of having to sleep with that man again was both exciting and scary. She pushed it from her mind.

"Mimis you have a clever tongue indeed!" Alison laughed.

"Chloe, you may berate me for this I know, but I beg you for your own sake, do not make him mad." Mimis looked at Alison with genuine concern.

"I won't Mimis, I have many things planned for this evening and he will be to busy listening and watching to be upset. And my best ally Odysseus will be there as well. He will certainly protect me from any harm." Alison laughed.

Mimis stopped applying make-up and looked at Alison sternly. "And he is another… powerful men like powerful women but Achilles just wants what he wants. Just fulfill this bargain and you will be done with him!"

"You are speaking like a woman again and not a slave Mimis," Alison retorted. For a brief moment Alison felt bad about saying that, but somehow she doubted Chloe would have.

Two hours later, Alison was finally ready to go to dinner. She ate some fruit and bread before she left knowing that entertaining and eating did not mix. The feast was aboard the ship of the High King. Agamemnon was a man of fantastic power and fantastic ambition. Chloe would have loved this man Alison thought. Alison was not especially taken with any of them. 

A young boy stood at the entrance of the ship ladder and helped her climb it. Aboard the ship a lavish offering of food was set out on a table. There was meat and a lot of wine.

"Chloe, you look as beautiful as the sunrise," a man came forward and said.

Alison smiled and was led to a small cushioned chair. She sat down and examined the room along with all the people. She was the only woman there. She hoped that would not stay the case.

Odysseus made a subdued entrance, and immediately went to a corner where he spoke softly to a man dressed in sliver jewelry. Achilles was absent, and Alison began to breathe a sigh of relief. One of the men sat near Alison and made small talk with her. She did her best to make him smile. More wine was poured and the mood of the room lightened a bit. Dancing women entertained the crowd of men and then dispersed into the room attaching themselves to various men.

Achilles made his entrance. Alison, bit her lip hard and looked away. The man was stunning and she thought, he knew it. His posture was one of aloof security and he glanced around the room with authority. Agamemnon looked at him with obvious distaste. Achilles ignored him and strode into the room. He made a quick victory speech about the sacking of the town and then proclaimed that half of the treasure was his.

"Half of all the treasure, I will expect it delivered by tomorrow afternoon." Achilles said.

Agamemnon rose to his feet, "Half? One man did not sack the city and one man does not claim half the treasure!"

Achilles responded by turning to the High King and saying, "I alone lead the army to victory, while the High King sat and watched from afar, so I CAN claim half the town's treasure. And you have more than you need. My men and I have not been given a proper share since we arrived here."

Agamemnon looked furious. "You blade is not the only one in this vast army Achilles. Leader though you may be, you are not the only man of worth here. Perhaps your taste in the finer things of this world has caused your greed." Agamemnon looked directly at Alison.

Achilles turned as well, a slow flicker of a smile spread across his face. "Perhaps you are right. The best things of this world are seldom without heavy cost. And I will expect a deal soon." He turned away from Agamemnon and walked to Alison. The man sitting beside her fled quickly.

"Chloe, you beauty rivals that of the stars above us," Achilles said sitting beside her. "Sing for me. Sing for us all," he commanded.

Alison rose and stood at the front of the room. She thought about a song, and somehow the lyrics came to her.

As blessed as a god it seems is he who sits by you;

see how he encircles you, how soft he is

when he whispers and when he smiles so sweetly at you

oh then this tortured heart's not mine

it breaks inside me, in my breast

and as I look at you it seems as though I lose my voice

and that I lose all sound and my tongue can't speak at all--

shattered and my body's frozen in torment

suddenly I'm overwhelmed by fire, my eyes now darken

bells ring in my ears, I am soaked with fear

and wracked by trembling seizing me then entirely,

more green than grass I am moving now toward death a little

flying--floating--falling.

After her song was complete, the dancing women came back to work the floor again. Alison sat down again feeling oddly drained. She momentarily forgot who she was, she thought of herself as Chloe and when that thought came into her mind, Alison struggled to come back. She needed air.

She quickly left the chamber and ran onto the deck of the ship, the air was cooler out here and there was a soft wind that blew across her face.

"You are trying to escape again?" the voice of Achilles said. "Please do not make me jump into the sea after you."

"No," said Alison, "I just needed air. I am not feeling myself recently."

"You are acting strangely. Why did you sing that song? A song for lovers?" Achilles sat on a small bench.

"I thought it would please you. Perhaps remind you of Breisies?" Alison laughed.

Achilles wasn't amused. "You bring her up as if she were your equal. You think my common slave is worthy of that song? I want her that is plain enough. But she is not a woman with whom conversation is possible. She works for me."

"And I do not? I am paid by you, what makes me different?" Alison asked. There was a kind of rising anger in her voice, but she wasn't sure why this subject made her upset at all.

"I will not talk about this any further, you are paid to entertain me. So entertain me," he said coldly.

"What would you have me do?" Alison asked.

"I would have you make me forget the hundreds who died under my sword. I would have you make me forget that the screams of the dying still linger in my ears. I would have you make me forget that I am the only one here capable of winning this war." He looked at Alison deeply. 'Why do you think I employ you? Why do you think the men here will pay anything to have you speak to them and pay attention to them? They want to forget as I do that we are thousands of miles from the homes we love and the people we know. They want to forget the stench of death and the ugliness of war and they want to feel the warmth of a woman that can make them forget what it means to be a soldier and remember what it feels like to be a man. You do that Chloe." He paused.

There was a flicker of pain on his face. Alison could see that his eyes were not angry anymore, his body was more relaxed and even his voice was softer.

"There are others here that can do that, Achilles." Alison said.

"Perhaps there are, but you are the one I have chosen and you are the one favored among many here. Maybe it is your youth, maybe it is you charm, and maybe it is something else. But whatever it is, everyone here sees it and they envy me. And I can't say I don't like that feeling." He finally smiled.

Alison wasn't sure if he was complimenting her or himself.

"I hear you received goods on the last supply ship. May I see them?" There was a glint in his eyes that betrayed the fact that he knew what was on that ship.

"If I say no?" asked Alison. There was a complex chain of thoughts speeding through her mind. Chloe's thoughts made her think that the very core of danger was being breached right now with his request. Alison however looked at him and saw pain. She wanted to comfort him. And she was under his employ. But a part of her fought that feeling hard. The word "danger" kept repeating in her mind. He is dangerous, he is dangerous, he is dangerous, the voice said.

He stood up and walked to her. "I want you to tell me a story. And then I want you to be my lover, willingly, make me forget who I am and I will make you rich."  He put his hands on her shoulders and ran them down the length of her arms.

Alison had never experienced any feeling like this before. Her body felt so alive under his touch, even though her mind still fought the danger cry.

"I can not leave yet. It would be rude." Alison said pulling away. She wasn't ready to make any decision about this man yet. And she had never been anyone's lover more than once. Alison wasn't sure she would know what to do. Being him with once seemed accidental enough.

"Ah, yes my victory. We must rejoin our waiting party. We can give Agamemnon something to talk about. He is happiest when he is miserable." Achilles said walking back into the chamber.

Alison followed him into the chamber. The room was now very loud and slightly obnoxious. Alison sat on the chair again and allowed wine to be poured for her. She stared at Achilles for the remainder of the evening although she spent a lot of time talking to everyone else in the room. She watched his every move. And one thing became very apparent. He knew where he was in space. His every action was a well-composed orchestra of movement. A slow burning desire smoldered within her.


	8. The Gift

The topic of discussion was Hector. Was he braver than Achilles? Did he behave with valor on the battlefield? Was he a man of honor?

An hour of this discussion left Alison with a worse opinion of Achilles than before and yet his brash speech was compelling. It seemed an impossible mixture of beauty and grace and a love for himself that was unrivaled. He was THE best of the Achaeans, so he said. 100 times.

"You are oddly silent tonight Chloe. What do you say? Is Hector a man with more courage than our Achilles?" asked a very drunk Agamemnon.

Alison was less than inclined to answer. Achilles looked at her rather smugly. Alison felt Chloe's stubborn rebelliousness surface. "I have never met Hector. How would I make that comparison? Maybe he is an equal to Achilles."

Agamemnon coughed, and Alison could see a storm rising in Achilles. She quickly recovered, pushing stubbornness aside for tact. She reminded herself that she was in the midst of dangerous men and her own position of safety very much depended on her discretion. Chloe's actions were fast becoming second nature and even her emotions rose quickly in response to stimuli. Alison had to fight urges now that would never have a part of her personality. And yet, something amazing was happening: as Chloe's responses came through, Alison felt more powerful.

All eyes were on Alison as the entire room hushed and waited to hear what would else would be said. Odysseus frowned heavily and turned away. He was not pleased with the response and he made it quite plain.

Achilles began to rise. "Maybe you should meet him in person. What would the city of Troy do with a high priced Athenian whore?" Achilles said addressing the room. "I doubt they would admire your beauty or want to hear your witty phrases."

Alison was embarrassed beyond words. Somehow she found courage again after momentarily losing her composure. "I will find out," Alison said looking at the laughing faces around the room. "Achilles is not the only one with courage in this room. Perhaps you will escort me to the gates?"

The room was silent. They stopped laughing. For a moment Alison was afraid that she had something completely wrong. The price she might pay for going to far over the line might be with her life.

It was Odysseus who broke the tension with a laugh. "Our Chloe's dislike for the greatest of the Achaean's is no secret, but the lengths she will go to avoid him are truly amazing!" The room laughed with him, and Alison herself smiled, as if that were her intention all along. A long silence followed.

More drinking followed. Eventually, the guests began to leave, or disappear with the dancing women. Achilles left alone. Alison almost cried in relief. Her mixture of desire for him coupled with her loathing of his character was too confusing for her to understand. Alison eventually excused herself for the night after turning down several requests for her company.

She walked along the beach staring at the brilliant stars above. The sky was pitch black except for the tiny points of light the dotted the arc above her. Alison pulled her hair out of the bun it was so neatly tied in. A small hill of rocks sat by the shore and they seemed to beckon. Alison climbed up onto a large one and watched the sea. It was black. The relentless action of waves on the shore beat a rhythm that was soothing but there was turmoil inside her head.

She had been in this "reality" for far too long. If she was going to wake up, it seemed that she would have already. She was trapped. Trapped in a body that didn't belong to her, with memories not her own, and in a world where men did not care about women and women were whores, slaves or wives. None of these were appealing. But survival was paramount. The confusing thoughts of being someone else were nothing in comparison to the feeling of being trapped with no way to be who she really was. Alison began to weep. The tears were hot and so thick that they blinded her. She thought about her grandfather and oddly his name was now not accessible, just the memory of love and his face. Little memories had been disappearing for days now although Alison could not really understand that they were dissipating, just that some things were missing.

And then a flash of memory, not hers but Chloe's interrupted her. The carpenter was aboard the ship again talking to Chloe. He smiled at her, and took her hand. It was a beautiful feeling to have him touch her. There was peace and a quiet strength that emanated from him. At the same time an overwhelming despair arose and made her sob hard. Everything was so confusing.  

At some point Alison realized that she wasn't alone. "You do not look good with a wet face." It was Achilles. He climbed the rock and sat beside her.

Alison tried to compose herself. "I am sorry my beauty is not up to your standards. I am sure there are others that will be more beautiful tonight."

"That may be, but I am not interested in them tonight. I am interested in what I paid for," he said quietly.

Alison felt her anger build. She was crying, and he was still thinking of her as a commodity. "You are not very compassionate are you?"

"I can not afford much of it. Tell me why you weep. You long for Hector to show you his courage and compare it to mine?" He asked. "You are making me weary. I can have anyone, but I come to you and you do not show the slightest interest. In fact you show me spite. And for a while it made me want you more, but now I think there is something more. Do you consider yourself above me?"

The ocean continued its relentless beat against the rocks. Contemplation was perhaps not the best course of action but a swift reply was out of the question too. This man was raising the issue that a 21rst century mind would rail against. But this, no matter how impossible it seemed, was not that time. Men dominated, women obeyed. The fact that she was accepted in certain circles did not mean that she was considered their equal at all. But she was a hetaera and she was at least on the same intellectual ground as a man. Alison carefully thought, while watching thick sea foam build on the rocks below.

"You are the best of the Achaeans, I am the best hetaera. You kill quickly with you blade. I make men sting with my words. Who is to say which of us is better?" Alison wiped away the last remaining tears. The remnants of another reality ripped into strings that were carried by the wind out over the water. The part of Chloe took center stage again.

Achilles laughed.

"I believe that you are the most skilled warrior in the world, but you know little of the art and beauty of this world. I however, being Athenian am far better at seeing and knowing the pleasure of that than you." Alison said.

"You know the pleasure of many things better than I, Chloe. I happen to extol those pleasures louder. You were schooled well and the last time I felt your skin on mine, it reminded me of just how well schooled you were." There was a long silence between them as the sound of the ocean filled their ears.

"I have a gift for you."  He rose and extended a hand to her.

"What kind of gift?" she asked as she rose. She took his hand and let him help her down the rock.

"I think you will like it. And it is secret. You must not tell anyone that I have done this for you, or the army will think I am weak, if not stupid for doing it." He took her hand and stroked her fingers with his. They walked for a short distance, behind a fortified dune and past the great tents that rang with the laughter of men inside. All who passed them nodded to Achilles but none stopped them.

A boat came into view that seemed oddly familiar and it sent a vague chill down Alison's spine.

"This boat and the slaves on it belong to you. Do with them as you wish but do not bother to tell me about it," he said frowning.

The incredible power behind this gift was almost hard to comprehend. He had given her a kind of freedom that she knew Chloe had not had. If she had wanted to leave it would have taken weeks or months to find a boat to take her… a sudden horrible thought crossed Alison's mind. If she was trapped in this place, this place might well hold the key to how she would get home. But as always, that thought made Alison's head hurt. The key might be anything, and maybe there was no key. Perhaps she was simply destined to continue in this reality forever. The thoughts eased and her attention focused back on the ship. It was a single sailed ship that was small but capable of taking 30 people on board. The craftsmanship was beautiful from what she could see.

"And what is the payment for such a gift?"  Alison asked softly.

"I have already told you what I want from you. But the ship is a gift to you. You of course decide what favors you will bestow upon me. As of this moment I consider your service to me to be fulfilled." Achilles began to walk away.

"Wait," said Alison. "Why have you changed your attitude about me?" It seemed impossible that he was the same man she had just witnessed praising himself.

'You are not yourself. Everyone can see it. No one knows why. But every man here wants to see you smile again. Every man wants to hear your wit, not the simple answers and polite conversation you gave us tonight. They think I am making you dull, and I will not be a part of that. As you said, you are the best hetaera here, but you won't be for long if you don't return to the way you once were. And maybe I shouldn't care, but I want you to be the best because I want you."

As before, it was impossible to tell if he was complimenting himself or her.

They began to walk again together. "And how do you think this gift of a ship will change me?"

"You do not recognize it? Chloe what is it that makes you so different now? Just a short time ago you made a slave attend you causing whispers from every man and woman in this camp. Have you forgotten why I was so jealous? I, Achilles was jealous of a slave! It was enough to make even the sanest of men go mad. But maybe if I give him to you, you will amuse yourself with him and be done with it. The ship is useful whether he is on it or not."

Dumbstruck and awed by the implication of this gift, Alison stopped. He was giving her not just what she wanted, but everything that Chloe desired. The "favor" was not a small one in either price or implication. She was now indebted to him greater than she had been before. The carpenter's face again flashed before her eyes. A longing engulfed her but she cast it off with some degree of difficulty.

"I could refuse your gift," she said quietly.

"You could, but you won't. I know you better than you think I do. We are in some ways much alike. You want all the comforts of life and the glory that being well known brings. We have different motives perhaps, but we operate much the same way. To deny my gift would be to deny your desire. And," he added, "You are not one to allow anything to stand in the way of what you desire."

Alison felt an odd sting of guilt however she couldn't pinpoint why she felt it. She looked up at the sky again, the stars blazed back at her. It was time to decide. It was expected that she return this favor, she knew it all too well. Hetaeras were lavished gifts in exchange for their company, but this was somehow different. This was well beyond the scope of a gift or a favor. But there was also no sign from him at all that he wanted her to do anything on this evening. Still, she knew that it would be rude to accept the gift and not somehow acknowledge it.

"I have someone waiting for me Chloe," Achilles said as they neared her tent. "So unless there is something more I can give you or that you want to give me, I will leave you for now."

"If I say that I want you to come with me? Will you still leave?" she asked unsure if this was the right way to handle the situation. Something about him was now more desirable than before. The physical desire never waned, but the feelings she had for him were hot and cold in amazingly rapid progression.

"If I come with you, what will you do for me? I do not think that I want to be entertained with song or dance tonight Chloe and I have had far too much wine to be of any use in conversation." He looked at her directly.

"I understand," she said. He wanted his slave, Alison thought. Relief quickly dismissed a moment of disappointment. Alison turned her back on him and lifted the flap of her tent and to her total astonishment Achilles followed her.

"Show me how well you understand," he said.


	9. Sex and Death

The sharp smell of wine lingered on his breath. Alison led him to a chair and then filled the basin in the tent with cool water. Mimis appeared quickly and poured light oil in the water she then disappeared. Alison was struck by how Mimis seemed to know exactly what was needed without being told. It was similarly remarkable that Alison's actions were guided by an innate knowledge of how to entertain.

The cool cloth dipped into the water and emerged with a floral aroma. Alison gently ran the cloth over his face and studied it. His skin was remarkably smooth and bore none of the marks that many men carried. His cheekbones were higher than most and as she drew the cloth down his face the taunt lines in his face erased. The long line of his lips curved into a very slight smile. His eyes were hidden behind closed lids that were smooth and motionless. Alison continued to run the cloth with cool water over the fine features of his face drinking in the perfect balance. The almost familiar feeling of desire stealthily crept upon her.

He reached up to touch her but she firmly pushed his hand down to his side. He obediently kept them down. She straddled his body with hers, threw aside the cloth and kissed his mouth firmly but held back any real passion. He kissed her back and taking her lead allowed the kiss between them to be short and shallow. She touched his face with her fingers and then wove her fingers through his hair. She leaned toward him and kissed his neck allowing her tongue to pass over his skin lightly. His body tensed slightly as she moved her mouth up to his ear. His breathing quickened, although hers remained even.

She shifted her clothing and pulled his hand to her guiding it down the length of her body. He used his fingers to explore her slowly and when her hand on his stopped at her abdomen, he broke free of her grasp and pushed it down to the inside of her thigh. A light whisper of a moan carried in the air between them. His finger pushed inside of her. His touch made circular patterns deep within her until she felt that she couldn't bear the feeling any longer. She tried to push his hand away, but he wouldn't stop. She felt a slow rise in tension that begged to be released. Part of her felt far too bold, but the stronger part knew exactly what to do.

In one swift movement he picked her up, pushed the curtained partition aside and fell onto the bed with her on top of him. A long delicious moment of hesitation lingered between them as he looked at her. His hands rose to her head and pulling her to him, he kissed her running his tongue on her lips. She returned the kiss and let her tongue touch his.

She moved slowly and eased herself onto his body. Despite the urge to move quickly, she prolonged the movement as long as she could. When he tried to push quickly and hard into her, she stopped, lifted herself from him and said, "No." He looked at her with exasperation and for a second she thought he was going to take command but he didn't. She again pushed her body onto his and slowly moved down. A dizzying feeling enveloped her as she created a shallow rhythm. After a few moments her body fell onto his hard. He groaned hard and grabbed her head to kiss her hard.

"You will drive me into madness this way," he said exhaling hard

In another swift movement he gripped her shoulders and reversed their positions. She took his hand and let her mouth glide over each of his fingers in slow succession. His eyes never left her face and their bodies remained joined. She tilted her head back and allowed ecstasy to overpower her. Crashing waves of pleasure rose and fell over her body so many times she lost count.

For the better part of an hour, they remained locked together fueling each other's passion until his body finally, in a massive release that made her cry out in pleasure and pain, poured into hers.

When she awoke he was gone.

* * *

Mimis appeared in the morning and poured her a hot cup of pungent tea.

"Chloe what is wrong with you? I have never seen you behave with a man as you do with him. First you hate him, but pleasure him with your company, which would have been enough but now … you can't afford to desire him."

"Who says I desire him?" Alison blushed deeply. She did desire him but it seemed ridiculous.

"It is plain."

"I am not going to argue this. What I do is my business not yours."

Mimis turned away and removed the cup of tea. Alison's insides churned and her stomach knotted. She felt sick to her stomach and her body broke out into a light sweat.

"What was in that tea?" Alison asked trying hard not to wretch.

"_Silphium_," Mimis said quietly. "You always drink it after being with a man. And you will drink it again in 10 days."

"I am sorry, yes yes of course to prevent pregnancy."

Mimis nodded.

"I think I need to sleep, I don't feel well right now."

"The tea is harsh, I know." Mimis helped her back to the bed. "It will pass."

She closed her eyes and was asleep in moments.

Alison dreamt.

Chloe was dead. She watched Chloe slip under the water and saw the look on her face as the water filled her lungs. Fear gave way to resolution and then nothing. She was lifeless. Achilles reached in to the water and pulled her dead form out the water. "I am too late," she heard him say. "Poseidon has taken her for good this time."

Mimis came forward and weeping claimed her body. Chloe was washed, and then wrapped in a her favorite tunic. Chloe was placed on a funeral pyre and Coins were placed on her eyes and Mimis alone stood with a torch in her hand. A small crowd of people, all men watched in somber silence. Achilles was absent. But the carpenter was watching and his eyes were red, raw and filled with an endless stream of tears.

Mimis lit the cords of wood under Chloe and dancing flames of red and orange danced upward. Alison found herself looking at the stars and realized that she was on the pyre. She screamed, but no sound would come out. She tried to move but she was immobile. The heat of the fire licked her body making her sweat, and when she realized that she was not going to escape, Alison cried out for her grandfather.


	10. Voyages

"Fever."

"Will she live?"

"I think so."

"I am leaving and may not return for two months or more. Tell her I said goodbye."

"Yes, of course."

"And tell her to take her slaves and go home."

"She doesn't want to leave –"

"Make her want to."

"I think she desires –"

"I do not care, she listens to you. Make her see it is for the best."

Alison opened her eyes sometime after hearing that conversation. The female voice was clearly Mimis' but the male voice was not clear enough for her to identify. She knew something was terribly wrong, but just the realization that she wasn't dead and hadn't been burned alive was so comforting, she could overlook everything else including the ache in her stomach and the heat scorching her body.

Chloe had died. Somehow that knowledge had made itself known to Alison while she slept. And now certain aspects of her being in this place made more sense although everything was still far from reason and logic.  There were some small traces of rationale forming her in her mind about the feasibility of her presence here. When Chloe died, somehow the portal between her world and this one opened. How that happened was still a mystery, but it was reassuring to know that she wasn't cohabitating someone's body. The memories that were left behind and the character that had been Chloe somehow remained but the essence of her was gone. There were still a thousand questions in her mind, but somehow, the fear of not being herself dissipated and Alison felt far more relaxed and unafraid.

Her dreams had been a mixture of stories, legends, memories and so many feelings. In some of the dreams she was Chloe, in others she was Alison. In some she saw her grandfather, in others she saw men and women she didn't recognize in places that were totally foreign. In one dream her grandfather was Zeus and he smiled at her telling her to keep looking for a way home. He pointed to the sea, and then to the river that Alison knew was Styx.

Home! That word had nostalgia attached to it now. Waking up again in the acrid tent, knowing that she couldn't go to the icebox to get a soda or take aspirin to bring down her fever, or even go to the store to buy whatever she needed was almost unimaginable. But now that the fear was gone, there was no real worry connected with those thoughts either. She was rich, she was well liked, and she had resources at her disposal. If she was going to find a way to get back to her time, it would have to begin not just by being Chloe to these people, but by using everything Chloe would to get what she needed.

"Chloe! I am so glad that you are awake. Drink some wine it will make you feel better." Mimis stood by her bed, and replaced a warm cloth on Alison's head with a cold one. "I have never seen a woman be so affected by the tea as you were. Don't try to stand, you have been asleep and in the throes of fever for over a week."

"Where is Achilles?" Alison asked hoping that he was close by. Her desire for the man seemed out of her control.

"He is off on another raid. He stopped by, saw you were sick and said that is might be better if you died. You were distracting him and causing problems. He said you should sail your ship home and never return."

"He sounds like Odysseus then."

Mimis looked uncomfortable but smiled. "Great men often think alike, don't they?"

"Find me two great men and perhaps I can answer that," Alison quipped back. Achilles wanted her dead? How could she have been so mislead by him? But quickly she thought about the fact that she was not Chloe and her experience with men, was minimal at best. Still, a deep sting settled deep inside of her. All the men here seemed to be in a frenzied rush for war, or a frenzied rush for sex.

Mimis stared at her blankly.

Alison sipped the wine and let the warm liquid quench her parched throat. "I need to swim," she said. Pulling the fever down would be easier if she could cool her whole body. "And after that, you are packing our things, we are going to Athens." 

If it had been proper, Alison was sure that Mimis would have kissed her.

The day after her fever faded, both Mimis and Alison were busy packing and getting the ship ready to leave. Niko, the carpenter, was absent. His services had been bought for a week's time to repair another ship. Finding a crew to sail her back to Greece was far harder than either she or Mimis anticipated. It was not helped by Alison's relentless questions of everyone who came near her.

Determined to return to the world she knew, would surely mean finding the marble or maybe the river she had dreamt about. Styx was not a real river, but perhaps it had some symbolic meaning that she could find in Greece. Somehow she doubted the portal was here. This place was filled with death and destruction and overzealous men. There was nothing for her here. But these people had answers to questions that historians had asked for years!

For over a week they tied to hire enough people sail the ship given to her by Achilles. But no one could be bought. The raids on the outlying cities of Troy were in full force and most of them men were either participating or supporting them. The spoils of these raids were huge and no one wanted to miss their fair share. In large part thanks to Agamemnon, the armies were still being well fed and well compensated. But it was early.

According to the answers to her questions, Alison learned that the Greeks had been in Troy for little over 5 years. Agamemnon had not taken Chryseis yet and Odysseus and Achilles were still on some levels, friends. The quarrel over whether might wins battles or mind wins battles had not occurred. As tempting as it was to learn the fate of these people, the temptation to see Ancient Greece before she found a way home was far greater. A realization of the vast knowledge that she could gather here was almost beyond her scope of reasoning.

The fundamental question of how she would return and in what body, was for Alison, asked but wholly unanswered. 

Two weeks passed, then three, and then four. There was still no crew, to take them away, but Alison discovered why Chloe had been so in love with Niko. He was a man that was unrivaled in his ability to make a woman feel good. Every waking moment she could she spent with him. He told her stories, asked her thousands of questions (most of which she guessed at the answers to) he played games with her and engaged her in conversation about subjects slaves should not know about much less be able to speak well on. He made her feel as if he genuinely wanted her companionship. Aside from kissing him once, there was no physical contact between them. Every time Alison would think that he wanted something more, he would stand up and leave. It had started simply enough; his eyes had a hypnotic effect on her. Whenever she looked at him she saw beauty and it was a stark contrast to the world around her. More than that, he respected her on a level no one in either world had ever respected her on before. He lacked the physical balance that Achilles had and his hands were scarred in 20 places but his face was beautiful and even the small scar on his upper lip did not detract from his good looks.

"I wasn't always a slave," Niko said one night as they sat on the ship's deck. "I was taken as a prisoner of war."

"How old where you?" Alison asked laying her head on his shoulder.

"I was 10."

"How horrible."

"They killed everyone in my family. I survived."

"Do you think about being free?"

"That is a waste of time. I will never be free again, and what would I do? This is all I know."

"You could go home."

"Chloe, home no longer exists. The Spartans control that land now, I have nothing to return to. You are the closest thing I have to freedom now." He pulled her into his arms gently. "Why you are with me, I don't know but I don't questions gifts anymore."

"You think I am a gift??"

"I am yours"

Alison sighed in a content satisfaction.

Mimis and Niko did not get along and the conflict between them was endless. Alison found that the best answer to their problems with each other was to make them both as busy as possible. As the weeks dragged on Alison became very comfortable in the role of Chloe but as she became more comfortable basic issues became difficult to ignore. Without a crew she would never be able to return home but without someone's intervention she would never be able to find men to sail her to Athens. She had dispatched a letter to Athens to her mother but that would most likely take many more months to be received and to be answered.

"Mimis, I have to find Odysseus. I don't want you to tell anyone where I am going."

Mimis stopped walking and stared at Alison. "Are you serious?"

"Mimis we are not going to get out of here without him. He wants me gone, and I think he would do anything to help me get out of here."

"Chloe, you cannot go into the Trojan theater of war. It is dangerous! Please."

"Mimis, I am going with the next supply team. And after paying dearly for it, the Ithaca supply leader has assured me safe passage."

"And Niko?"

"Do not tell him where I am. Tell him I am on an errand." Alison suddenly looked very somber. "Mimis, if I do not return for some reason, you, Niko and all the slaves are to be returned to my mother's house. But I don't know if my wishes will be carried out. Find Achilles and beg him to help you if can't get out of here any other way."

Mimis nodded and added. "I know the King of Ithaca will help you, but I don't see why you can't wait for him to return."

"Are you willing to wait here another cycle of the moon? Two? Three? You do not know how long it will take them to return from the borderland raid. If I can get a crew to help us, we can be gone long before they ever return."

"I am afraid for you," Mimis said turning away.

"I am too," Alison thought to herself.

Three days later, Alison was on a boat sailing to the outlying city of Troy that was under attack.

It was a short boat trip. By the second day of travel, Alison understood why people did not travel great distances by litter. The curtained chamber was small cramped and insufferably hot. She had been ordered to keep the curtain at all times at under no condition was she to open it unless directed to by the supply leader Dimitris.

Voices carried into the litter: It was obvious that she was resented among the slaves but they faithfully carried her if perhaps not as gently as she would have liked. In the dim of the second evening Alison learned how alone she really was. As the entire supply line gathered to talk about the days events and reminisce about home Alison was pointedly excluded. When she attempted to speak, she was met with cold icy glares and stolid silence.

Dimitris pulled her back to the stuffy litter. "I agreed to take you where you wanted to go but no one wants to see you or hear from you. Hetaeras are too good for us. Unless," he paused, "you are wanting to show one of us what you do to _entertain_."

Alison shook her head violently. She closed the curtain and focused her mind on the meeting she would have with Odysseus and tried to put everything else out of her head. Mentally she rehearsed what she would say, and how she would handle a positive or negative response from him. He had nothing to lose by telling her no, but according to his own words, he a lot to gain by helping her.

Rapid thoughts of Achilles filled her head. The man had an entirely unsettling effect on her. She was burning a candle at both ends dreaming of his touch but falling in love with the carpenter slave. Beauty, balance, grace and strength were the epitome of Achilles, but Niko had something else; he had her rapt fascination and a commanding power over her very soul. Just the thought of his eyes on her sent euphoric waves of peace and contentment throughout her being.

On the night before she left Niko had pulled her into a small alcove formed by the hull of the ship and the one main sails that had yet to be installed on the ship's mast. His voice was fierce and his look in his eyes was cried of pure hunger.

"Come back to me," he demanded towering over her.

"I am just going on an errand. I'll be back soon."

"Mimis told me where you are really going. Come back to me."

Alison searched his eyes for some understanding, but the smoldering gaze he threw back had none of it.

"I will be back."

"I can't lose you again Chloe."

Before she had time to think about what that meant, he kissed her hard, and deep and with passion that stole the breath of them both. He pulled her to him, but then abruptly let her go. Alison had seen tears in eyes when he walked away.

Alison curled up in the litter and fell asleep thinking of Niko.

The shrill sound of a man's bloodcurdling scream awoke Alison a few hours after she fell asleep. Dimitris flung the flap of the litter back and pulled Alison out. She stumbled half asleep onto the rocky ground as he pushed her in front of him. He held her firmly by the shoulders.

"Her life for mine! A trade!"

Alison's eyes were now fully open and the scene before her was as frightening as it was fascinating. Soldiers were standing on both sides of the men in the supply lines. Some of the men carried a spear twice the length of themselves and others carried swords. Some wore leather armor others wore simple cloth. A smattering of men had helmets on their heads. The ground however was smeared with blood and the bodies of the slaves who had been slain. Three massive torches burned illuminating a small amount of the night sky and the area in front of them. Suddenly realizing what Dimitris had meant by his comment, Alison struggled and stamped her foot hard on his. He released her and tried to grab her back but it was too late. Alison tried to run but rather short man with missing teeth and a large nose stopped her.

"The Greek supply lines are well stocked!" a man said laughing.

Dimitris fell to the ground in a heap 5 seconds later as one of the soldiers slammed a sword into his chest and then slowly pulled it out. The sound of escaping air was unmistakable but and Dimitris' lungs bubbled in the blood. Alison gasped in horror but no one even seemed to notice the collapsed body still gasping for unattainable breath. She could do nothing but watch him die.

The short man tied Alison hands behind her back and then pushed her down to the ground inches away from the fallen supply leader. Alison was scared as never before. She had no way of knowing who these men were, and no way of knowing what they would do to her. The group of men gathered all the supplies meant for the Greek army and formed a line. What supplies were left, they loaded onto the litter and began to carry it. For a moment Alison thought that they had forgotten her. However that was not the case. Another man stepped forward saying, "You are claimed as a prisoner of war by the city of Troy."


	11. Within the Walls

The city of Troy was not at all the way Alison had imagined it would be. Endless hours of research had netted a false image of the city that didn't come close to the way it actually unfolded as she entered the small door at the base of the towering wall. The doorway was only large enough to admit one person at a time and as she entered the first thing that struck her was the narrow passage that the gate opened into. If there was a Trojan horse it was not going to fit through this tiny passage, she thought.

Inside the city, the building were close together formed a large square just past the main gateway. Past the northern end of the square a massive stone building stood that obscured the horizon and cast a dwarfing shadow over the city. Open doorways, stairs, and were littered with people. Makeshift tents lined the streets and chickens and people roamed together. Filled urns of water filled corners and small "stations" where soldiers and women lined up to get water. The smell of the city was miserable. Sweat, decay and death hung in the air. A city under siege was not a pleasant place.

Alison was pushed through a door at the base of a building. "You wait here," the soldier told her. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light a mural emerged on the wall. Her knees were weak but Alison kept walking forward in disbelief and shock. Athena stood ready to shoot a dear, Poseidon held his trident, and Ares held his spear in one hand and woman in the other while Zeus watched over them all. It was the same mural that she had seen in the library. Tears streamed down her face in happiness. This was the first solid connection that she had with a world that seemed further away now than it ever was before. With her hands bound there was no way to touch the painting but Alison felt the need to be touch it somehow so she brushed against the wall with her shoulder. The wall was cold and there was nothing special about the area around it: no mirrors and certainly no water like there was in the library. If there was something special about this place it was not in the crisp stone that touched her bare flesh. She scanned the mural for Thetis and the infant Achilles, but the painting showed no sign of it.

"It is a beautiful sight, the gods in a lazy peace. No sign of them interfering with mortal life they are just content to do what gods do. Of course today, we see that mortals cause enough chaos in the world without the help of the gods. Take me. Here I am talking to a prisoner of war with no real idea of who she is or what she was doing traveling with a supply chain, but I can take one look at her and know that she is going to be trouble. Beautiful women always are. So I suppose I should kill her now, and simply be done with it." He unsheathed a sword and took a small step forward. "Of course if I do that, I will never learn what secrets she might possess and I am fairly certain that a Greek woman would be a welcome slave to any household in Troy.  I don't think we have yet had the pleasure of taking a Greek woman into our city. Tell me your name."

Alison listened but her mind was still on the painting. "Has this painting ever had Achilles and Thetis on it?"

The man advanced and placed one hand around Alison's neck and began to squeeze. "You dare utter then name of Achilles in this city and think we would pay him tribute by adorning our walls with him? The paint of his blood is all we want to see on the walls of Troy! Do you toy with me?" Alison shook her head making only a tiny movement because of the pressure he was exerting on her neck. He released his hand and Alison's throat immediately convulsed into a spasm of coughs that hurt enough to bring her to her knees. "Name! Now!" he shouted.

"I am Ali- …I am Chloe from the city of Athens. I am a hetaera." She wasn't sure if it wise to declare herself a courtesan, but it seemed like the only thing to say. Her throat hurt and an anxious fear rose hard and fast within her.

"Are you living in the base camp? How many Greeks are raiding? Is Achilles with them? Do you consort with the kings?"

"Who are you?"

"I ask questions, you answer them. Do you consort with the Greek kings?"

"I know them and am sometimes in their service, yes."

"Then you may have information we can use. And from the looks of it you may have other things my men can use as well." There was no expression on his face and that scared Alison. Hundred of disconnected thoughts sped through her mind as she tried to think of something to say that would make her more valuable to the Trojans. The last thing that she wanted to do was become a slave in a Trojan house. Slaves were not treated well, and there was no way of being sure that they wouldn't kill her before the Greeks invaded the city.

Alison paused and drew in her breath. She had an idea that if it worked might save her from harm from any of the men in Troy.

"I asked about Achilles because I entertain him more than all others."

The man's face turned 10 shades of red before he spoke. "You will be presented to the cabinet of war tonight," he said almost breathlessly. He pushed her forward into a long hallway. He stopped in a room and took a long piece of rope and attached it to her waist. He then led her back through the doors and out into the streets. He called to a soldier and whispered in his ear then pulled Alison hard into the middle of the street and then waited. Soon a crowd formed around them. Most of the crowd was soldiers but there were many men and women standing in the streets as well.

He shouted: "I have here, the Achaeans prize; a hetaera who consorts with the killers of our soldiers, your friends, husbands and sons!" The crowd mumbled and someone threw a rock that narrowly missed Alison. "She comforts the man, no the beast named Achilles that leaves us no comfort! When we have extracted all the information we can from her I will bring her back here for a public execution. Tell me you want to see Greek blood stain our city streets!" The crowd cheered in what could only be called frenzy. Again a rock was thrown and this time it hit Alison on the leg. She bent down to rub her calf and another rock flew this time hitting her on top of the head. She screamed in agony and this time blood trickled down her hair and into her face. Tears and blood mixed together. The man yanked the rope hard and Alison fell face first on the street. He knees were now scraped and bloody. Again the crowed cheered and rocks flew.

An eternity later the man yanked her again. He led her stumbling into a long passage up four flights of stairs and then into an immense chamber. He tied her to a pillar and then pushed her shoulders down. "You will stay here until the war council assembles." He turned and left without looking back.

Alison sat on the floor to numb to cry. Not only had she never been treated this way, she was afraid for her very life. For hours she sat thinking nothing. She had no plan. They were going to kill her for being associated with Achilles and there was nothing she could do about it.

" Tell me about him," a young woman came and said. She had a bowl of water and cloth with her that she brushed Alison's face carefully removing the blood. "What is he like? Is he a monster? I heard Hector say that he was 7 foot tall and mean in a way only the gods can make men."

Alison looked up at the woman. She had a face of beauty and hands that were soft. She was no slave. "He is not like that. And what makes Hector any different?" Alison was not beyond caring about what she said or how it would be received.

"He is my husband. And he is not a cruel man. He was only cruel to you because you are one of them."

"The man who tied me here was Hector?" Alison suddenly realized that it had been Hector and everything she ever thought about him seemed wrong and that would make this woman Andromache. 

"He also sent me here to make sure you were okay. What is your name?"

"Send him my thanks then. My name is Chloe," Alison retorted bitterly. "He plans to kill me, why does he care if I am in good health?"

"I don't think he is going to kill you. Given as a prize of war perhaps, but to whom I don't know. He could take you himself, but I don't think he will. It would not make me happy at all." She pressed a little too hard on the wound on Alison's head and Alison flinched hard. "Maybe he will give you to Paris. His Helen seems to have lost interest in him and he is not a happy man anymore."

"I thought Helen and Paris were in love." Alison said mildly.

"Helen does not love anyone. Paris kidnapped her and brought her here against her will. But she made the best of it. I think she even started to like him for a while but she is bored. I can see it in her eyes. After nine years with Paris, I would not be happy either. He is a handsome man, but not a man of honor or even good judgment. He believes that he is entitled to things simply because he is a Prince of Troy."

"He said he was going to kill me Andromache." Too late she realized what she had done.

"How did you know my name?"

Alison thought quickly. "You are well known as the wife of Hector." Alison watched as Andromache relaxed visibly.

"If that is what he said, then maybe that is what he will do. But for now you are alive and I would not waste a moment of time thinking about anything other than how to stay that way." She finished wiping Alison's face and then to her total amazement she began to braid Alison's hair. "Hector says you are a hetaera." Alison nodded to her. "I hope you have some way of entertaining the War Council then Chloe. May the Gods be with you tonight." She rose and looked down. "Women have never faired very well here in Troy. But I know you must be special."

"Why?"

"If you weren't, your blood would be splattered on the walls of citadel or Hector would have tossed you from the walls himself."  She left the room.

Achilles. They wanted to know about him. It was time for Alison to put her knowledge and skill together to tell the greatest story of her life.


	12. Hector

The war council began to trickle slowly into the chamber. Despite the overwhelming sense of fear, Alison somehow slept. She woke to the sound of people conversing as they entered. Her body hurt from the places that the rocks had hit and her wrists ached where the rope cut into her skin. The room flickered with orange light produced by sconces on the wall and standing freely on top of high pillars. The smell of incense was carried by a very light breeze that entered from the open bay that looked out over the city.

The participants of the war council were a mixture of all ages, and all types. They all wore well-made cloth but the richer ones wore bright colors. Three women entered the chamber and brushed the low chairs and cushions off as the men mingled and spoke to each other in low voices. A few glanced in Alison's direction but none spoke to her. A young woman filled a small cup with water for Alison to drink and set a plate of small chunks of bread and fruit before her. She then sat beside her and lifted the cup to Alison's mouth and then fed her the small pieces of bread. The woman said nothing and Alison remained silent as well listening to the conversations of the men around her.

Hector entered the room and all the men found places to sit around on stone benches in the room. Hector looked directly at Alison and motioned by bringing his hands up for the room to be silent.

'I give thanks to you all for attending this council on such short notice. We have many things to discuss. First: the advancing of the Achaean army has reached the town of Nisios. I don't need to tell you that they have been supplying us with food for months and the fall of this city would disastrous to our supply lines. We are rallying 200 more men to join the forces advancing there now. After such a short rest period our men are already tired. And without some element of surprise, I do not know that our chances are any better than they were when they took Olious. Achilles again leads the Achaeans and while he lives the best we can do is hold them in an even match.

"Second: 100 baskets of grain are on their way into the city. At all costs, we must protect this shipment. It will feed the Northern contingent of our army for a month. I am assigning Artarmes as leader of the protection unit.

"Third: It is no secret that we have been begged to intercede on Chryses behalf for his daughter. Do we send a diplomatic team to try and negotiate her release?"

Men all spoke at once. It was impossible to tell who was talking much less what was being said. Shouts and curses could be heard loudly and as hard as Alison strained to hear what was being said. It seemed that the opinion was more in favor of letting Chryses wield the power of Apollo, than get involved.

Chryses was the father of Chryseis and Alison knew the story well. Agamemnon had claimed the girl as his war prize after a raid. Chryses was a priest of Apollo and a powerful man. If these events were unfolding now, the future was about to take a tragic turn. Hector, Achilles, Patroclus and Paris were all going to die soon. And what if the painting that was the gateway home was damaged when the Greeks took the city? And what of Niko? There were so many situations to contemplate.

"I agree," said Hector in response to someone's suggestion that there was really nothing to be done. "If we attempt to intercede we may end up with a more difficult situation. Agamemnon captured her and claimed her; there is little we can do. However bear in mind that our allies are weak and need as much support as we can give them."

"They are weak? What about us? 5 years of war have made us all weak!" someone said.

"I am not debating the fact that we are all tired of war. But we have held our city and matched every loss with a win. We can be proud! The men shouted in agreement. "But we can not afford to be careless." He sat down on a bench. "We have in our midst, a woman who knows the man who turns the tide of battles in favor of the Greeks," he pointed to Alison. All eyes turned to Alison as they had they had seen her for the first time. Hector motioned to the young woman who had fed Alison. "Unbind her."

Alison stood up on shaky legs and rubbed her wrists. "Stand before me," Alison heard Hector say. She walked slowly between the rows of benches trying to maintain an element of composure. She stood before Hector and gave him a questioning look.

"Now tell us what you know of _him_."

Alison had already thought about what to say but somehow words failed her. Looking out at these generals with their scars and their grim faces. Some were young, too young to be good leaders. They were obvious replacements for older men who had died. They all looked weary but when they looked at Alison, they looked angry as well. These men had suffered not just physical pain but emotional torment of losing those they loved and watching the city they loved sustain attack and remain under siege for 5 years. Her eloquent speech about Achilles and the great army of the Greeks choked in her throat.

"There is nothing to tell. He is like you. You are like him. You are equally matched and in the end what you know need to know about winning this war has nothing to do with who is better but how you will be remembered."

"Do you mean to tell me that nothing you know about him is useful?" asked Hector quietly.

"I don't know what I can tell you, I entertain him as any _hetaera_ would. I am not involved with politics, strategy and war." Then drawing on the very words Achilles had said to her weeks ago she continued: "They seek me out to forget these things, not to be reminded of them."

"If you have no information, then why are you still alive?" Hector asked dangerously.

Alison composed herself and changed tactics. "Because you like he, are men that acknowledge beauty. You would rather make me a slave to one of your own than kill me. Because you embody the wisdom of Athena, while wielding the power of Ares."

Hector looked at her with what seemed like amusement. "You flatter me by comparing me to the gods, and you are not far from the truth. Still, as a prize you are only valuable if you mean something to the Greeks and they know you are no longer theirs." He paused. "Are you special to them? And will it hurt them to know that you now belong to us?"

"I am special to them, but not so special that I can not be replaced. Will it hurt them? Would the loss of a prize hurt you Hector? Would you mourn the loss of Troy's prize Helen?"

"You compare yourself to Helen?"

"I think we are both prizes of men who live surround by their own vanity."

Hector's face stopped looking amused and began to take on a rather quizzical expression. "You speak in the strangest manner..." his voice trailed off and he tilted his head slightly. "Where are you from?" He quickly snapped back to his angered expression and looked at each of the council members. "You have far more knowledge than you are telling now. And I sense that you are a danger. Execution may be the best action."

Alison shook her head. This couldn't be happening. What would make her more valuable? She didn't know anything about Achilles that would be valuable to them.

"I see visions of the future," she said in a desperate attempt to save her life.

The men mumbled low but Hector flew into a rage. "Be silent! Your veiled attempt to make yourself indispensable is thin at best." Hector stood very close to her. He mouthed, "Say nothing." but there was no sound then turned back to the room. "We are to believe that an Athenian whore is sent to by the Gods to aid us against the Achaeans? " The room erupted into laughter. "Take her to a locked chamber and post a guard. I'll decide on an execution later. We have greater matters to worry about right now."

Alison was grabbed by the arms and led out of the room. She hadn't expected him to react that way. It had always seemed that the Trojans were superstitious and heavily relied on the Gods and seers to divine the future. The mere thought of history was not clear. Alison alternated between thoughts of what she knew and then couldn't understand how she knew them. This confusion was becoming more and more prevalent and descended in waves. One moment she knew she was Alison, and the next minute she was struggling to understand why she thought of herself as Alison. She had to clear her head. A song from some ancient time began to play in her head:

Come sail away,

Come sail away,

Come sail away with me.

Alison tried to concentrate on it. She could hear music now and she was able to shake the mists that obscured her thoughts away. He connection with Chloe was growing stronger, and soon Alison felt sure, she would lose her memory of who she really was. She had to return to the picture. There must be a key there.

It was days before Hector returned. Food and water were brought in regularly but no one dared speak to her. When he did arrive and locked the door with a massive brace from the inside, Alison was truly afraid.

"You and I have much to talk about." He sat on a large cushion in the middle of the room and motioned for her to do the same.

Alison looked at skeptically, but she saw little point resisting.

"I don't know who you are, but you are not who you say you are. Are you a spy from some other army? If you see the future, what do you see?"

"I am Chloe Hetera from Athens. You believe that I can see the future now?" Some small doubt crept into her mind. What did she know of the future?

"I had to stop you from in the war council whether I believed you or not. My men cannot afford to think about omens and visions of the future. We must concentrate on what is to come today."

Alison nodded.

"Now tell me what you know. Everything."

Alison thought carefully. Maybe she could yet make Hector her ally. She recited what she knew so far, and then added the story of Achilles' hatred of Hector.

"Tell me about Achilles. What are his weaknesses? What does he desire most? What does he hate? How does he command the loyalty of his men?"

"As I said before Hector, Achilles is much like you."

"We are NOTHING alike," Hector almost screamed. "He fights for his own vanity, and for the love others will give him for being so good." Hector shifted his weight on the cushion beneath him. "He is a savage on the battlefield. But I see that he pines for the beauty and pleasure of civilization. He pays for the companionship of an hetera when he could have any of a thousand slave women. It is an enigmatic situation. To defeat an enemy, one must know him well and I admit that I do not understand him well enough to counter him."

"His love for life is as your love for this city. He clings to pleasure and beauty as you cling to the very traditions and foundations that make Troy great."

"You speak well. You see the greatness of Troy?"

"I owe my allegiance to no one, I am a paid entertainer, therefore I am at liberty to see the greatness of both sides."

Hector looked bemused but remained silent.

"I have heard," said Alison, "That the great Achilles has a weak spot." A wave of confusion abruptly descended.

"And what is his weakness?"

"He is weak ... " What was she going to say? Did she know where he was weak?"

"Yes?"

"When I left, they were going to attack the islands to the North. You can capture a massive shipment of food coming down the small river to the west of the camp. They have been moving supplies up and down this river without detection for a long time now, it is so small no one thought to look there."

"What of Achilles?"

Alison shook her head. "I don't know."

Hector thoughtfully closed his eyes. "I will look into this intelligence. Send for me if you think of anything else." He lifted the brace and opened the door.

"What is to become of me?" Alison asked softly.

"Someone will want you, I am sure." Hector said smiling. "I'll send for you when I have decided what to do with you."

Alison fell asleep after Hector left. The sky grew dark, and there were no candles or any other light sources. In the dark there was nothing to do but sleep. Her head was once again swimming the way it had been when she first arrived in this strange place. A flood of tears showered the ground as she cried, not understanding why she was here, or even who she really was. She felt as if she were losing her mind completely.

Days passed again, and then weeks. The only visitors she had were the women who brought her food and water. Once every few days she was taken to a bath but no one talked to her. Her thoughts alone kept her company; and they were becoming disjointed and a complicated series of images that seemed impossible. Metal boxes, towering buildings, devices that gave people powers only the gods had.

Four weeks later, Hector returned. He opened the door and this time, he left it open. "Your information was powerful. We have crippled their supply line and stores so greatly that they have withdrawn the active attack on our allies to the North and have had to send overseas for more. It will take many months for them to recover this loss. Additionally we have reclaimed the treasure they stole from the towns to the north."

Alison breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps he would reconsider his earlier death sentence.

"I have taken the liberty of installing you in my household. You can attend me as you would Achilles. If you were good enough for him, you are good enough for me."


	13. Small Victory

True to his word, Hector placed Alison in his house. She functioned as a glorified maid with many responsibilities and duties. No one talked to her and no one asked her questions. A flurry of orders and hurried commands were given at daybreak, and checked at sunset. It was an exhausting challenge to keep up.

Troy was essentially a stone city. The main palace, where Prince Hector, Andromache, Prince Paris, Helen and King Priam and the younger princes lived was made from stone, but in most public places, the stone was polished and smooth. Imported goods from much further inland adorned every area the princes or the king would be. Seats were low to the ground and covered with fine cushions and soft material. The walls were adorned sparsely with paintings directly on the walls, and a few hanging banners. Beds came in two varieties; very hard with soft furs on them and very soft made from feather down. Alison however, slept on the floor.

Even the highest-ranking servant in Hector's house slept on the floor with varying comfort levels based on blanket materials. Alison's blanket was scratchy and itchy and the floor was very hard. The enormous tasks given to her daily, assured exhaustion at night and sleep was never far from her mind. After two months, Alison's fingers began to crack and bleed and her hair lost much of the luster it once had.

Hector and Paris seemed far too pleased watching her suffer. They assigned her work far outside of the normal scope of any of the other maids serving with her. And they watched her continually.

Hector in particular took an intense interest watching Alison. His comments were both quick and derisive. Nothing she did could be done fast enough and nothing could be done well enough for his liking. The tension between them was growing steadily.

Much to her relief however she was never physically struck as so many of the other maids were.

In the early morning hours of a rainy day, Hector summoned Alison to follow him. Reluctantly Alison followed although it felt as if she had just gone to sleep moments before. In silence, they threaded their way through the long corridors of the city. For the better part of an hour, Alison strode in silence behind Hector until they reached the oldest part of the city. He opened a door and showed her into a room that was filthy. The walls were covered with soot and there was a stench that defied reasonable explanation. Rats scurried in and out through holes in the bottom of the walls and there was debris everywhere.

"You will clean this room until it is good enough to host guests." He left and then returned with three men carrying buckets of water, brushes, and brooms. "These men will assist you."

"Why should I do this?" Alison asked defiantly. She was tired of being ordered around and away from all the other women, Alison found some form of courage.

Hector looked at her with a mixture of shock and anger. "You will do it because I demand it, and because if you do perhaps you will be rewarded."

Alison thought about the rewards that she had seen others given. Some were rewarded with fabric for new clothing, days without work and even extra food. They all appealed to Alison. She was about ask him if she could have a hot bath as a reward but when she looked back up, Hector was gone

It took two full days of cleaning to get the room presentable. Alison worked harder in those two days than she had in her captive two months. The walls were so dirty that as the black muck came off, the dirty water carried a foul stench. One of the men eventually told her it was caked blood.

"This was once a punishment room," the man said.

Alison held back the urge to vomit.

On the second day in the late afternoon, another group of servants arrived with fabric and the low cushion used to sit on. Three tables soon followed and what could only be loosely called "carpets" (Large woven strips that were sewn together at the edges.) were placed on the floor. Herbs were crushed and thrown into the carpet giving the room a light aromatic smell. Large oil sconces that burned animal fat were set outside the door and inside the room.

Exhausted, Alison sat in the corner of room extremely proud of her efforts and waited for Hector to return. Food was brought in and well after dark Hector returned.

"Come with me," he ordered. There was no mention of the room or of what her reward would be.

Alison was too tired to argue. She stood up and followed Hector to a large bathhouse.

"See that she is bathed, her hair brushed, and that she looks presentable." Hector said to the four women at the door. He did not look in her direction as he left.

The process of bathing was anything but enjoyable. The soap was harsh; the tangles in her hair were painful as she washed out the junk from the days without proper water and soap and her fingernails hurt to be brushed as the layers of dirt slowly eroded from under them.

But when the cleaning was done, the pampering began and Alison felt more at ease. Lotions flowed freely drenching her parched skin. Light oils were rubbed into her skin bringing back some her healthy glow. This was the treatment she was used to. The last thing to be completed was her hair. The gold and silver decoration they placed in her hair gave her the feeling of normalcy. She looked at her reflection in a basin of fresh water.

Images of a giant mirror danced in Alison's head. The first time she had seen Achilles… The painting had something to do with the mirror. Over the past months the moments of clarity about how and why she was here, were exceedingly rare. Alison resigned herself to the world she was in although she knew she did not belong here. Still the more time she spent in this world, the cloudier the visions of whom she was and where she was from became. The confusion and trance like feeling she had was broken by one of the women.

"The Achaeans are slaughtering babies and women now." They chattered over Alison's head as if she were not there.

"I heard that they rape every woman the find and then kill them," said one.

"It is no wonder we starve! All the cities that can provide us with aid are afraid of the advancing raids. They provide us with so little, children die regularly."

"I would like to kill Achilles myself," said another maid from the far side of the room.

Alison ignored them. She had neither the patience nor the strength to argue with them. And in all likelihood they were not about to listen. The war propaganda was a constant hushed conversation everyone had with each other.

"Our Hector will never allow them to breach with walls of Troy," an old woman responded. "And killing Achilles will not make it better. The ones that need to die are Agamemnon and Menelaus."

The house cleaners argued about who should die first for quite sometime. No one ever suggested Helen should return and no one mentioned her death. Troy was not about to concede that Paris had done anything wrong by taking her.

Hours later after eating a very light meal, Alison was escorted back to the room she had cleaned. It looked very different, now filled with men, lit torches, and overflowing food on the tables. She was led to a group of five women that stood against the wall on the opposite side of the room. Hector was speaking, but Alison was paying no attention to him. She was exhausted and her mind kept returning to the idea that her reflection in a mirror was somehow very important.

Somehow, Hector's words eventually did sink in. The women in the group were being given to the princes of a neighboring city as tribute for their help in securing supplies for Troy.

Alison felt close to fainting. If she were given away, she might never see the Achaean army again, and she might not ever see Troy again. Both were somehow connected to her existence: Troy for the painting and the Achaeans because of Achilles.

"And now", Hector began. "We come to the entertainment." He motioned Alison forward. "This prize we captured from the Greek's. An Athenian hetaera, legendary for their grace, charm and," he looked from her to the group of men, "_skills_. She was the consort to the Greek's favorite killer, Achilles. But tonight she will entertain us and we will be the ones to reap the rewards of her."

Laughter ensued.

Alison flinched.

"Sing for us, Chloe," Hector commanded. As she approached him, he pulled her very close and fiercely whispered: "Make them weep with joy or I will see you sent as a slave with the others".

Alison was close to weeping with joy herself after hearing Hector's words. She was not being sent from Troy at all! Thinking as quickly as she could a song came to her. The words seemed perfectly suited. As she started to sing, a melancholy settled upon her giving her voice the purest, saddest emotion she had ever felt. The words seemed ancient, but meant something supremely special.

_Hearts are worn  
__In these dark ages  
__You're not alone,  
__In these stories' pages  
__The light has fallen  
__Amongst the living and the dying  
__And I'll try to hold it in  
__Yeah I'll try to hold it in_

_The world is on fire  
__It's more than I can handle  
__I'll tap into the water  
__Try and bring my share  
__Try to bring more, more than I can handle  
__Bring it to the table  
__Bring what I am able ..._

_I watch the heavens  
__But I find no calling  
__Something I can do to change what's coming  
__Stay close to me  
__While the sky is falling  
__I don't wanna be left alone,  
__Don't want to be alone..._

_The world is on fire  
__It's more than I can handle  
__I'll tap into the water  
__Try and bring my share  
__Try to bring more, more than I can handle  
__Bring it to the table  
__Bring what I am able ..._

_Hearts break ... hearts mend ... love still hurts  
__Visions clash ... ships crash  
__Still there's talk of saving souls  
__Still the cold is closing in on us  
__We part the veil on our killer sun  
__Stray from the straight line_

_On this short run ...  
__The more we take the less we become  
__The fortune of one man means less for some_

_The world is on fire  
__It's more than I can handle  
__I'll tap into the water  
__Try and bring my share  
__Try to bring more, more than I can handle  
__Bring it to the table  
__Bring what I am able_

By the time she was done singing, a kind of hushed peace fell on the room. Hector looked at her in stunned silence and no one spoke for the better part of 3 minutes. Alison stood in perfect stillness until at last a man from the back of the room advanced took Alison's hand and placed a large ring on it. He looked deeply into her eyes and then kissed her forehead. Without a word, he returned to his seat.

It was the King, of whom Alison had not even noticed before, who broke the silence. "You were mistakenly born in Athens, for surely the gods meant for you to be Trojan," he said softly. He waved his hand toward a man beside him who then began to play an instrument of some kind and as music filled the air, the normal flow of conversation began again.

The compliment the King had given to Alison did not go unnoticed. Hector stood by her side and whispered, "I said make them weep, not cast a spell on everyone. You have a power and a gift that I misjudged, but do not think that it will buy you any special favors from me."

No sooner had those words escaped Hector's lips, than the King called upon her.

"Chloe", the King called to her. "Come here."

Alison obediently obeyed relieved to be out of Hector's grasp and sight. He was looking at her in a disconcerting way. She sat across the table from him carefully watching where everyone else in the room was. Serving women poured in the room from both entrances and more food was served. The smell of roasted pigeon, baked bread with savory herbs, and a special fruit dish with sweet sauce filled the air. Alison's stomach grumbled loudly.

"Eat, please," Priam said. A plate was set in front of him and he began to eat and talk to the man on his left.

A plate was also set before Alison and Hector sat her right. The food looked and smelled better than anything Alison had eaten since the night of the feast on Agamemnon's ship. It was hard to control her impulse to eat everything as quickly as possible. Alison listened to the talk about supply ships and the need for repairs to certain sections of towns and cities, but she said nothing. No one seemed to notice her at all until well into the evening after gallons of fermented drinks intoxicated everyone, when Priam spoke again to Alison.

"Chloe, fill our ears once more with your voice," he said.

Alison stood up and was once again filled with emotion. This time, she sang a haunting melody. This time the song was of returning home. Of sailors at sea and of wives who wept watching small children grow without their fathers. Alison closed her eyes and sang the song feeling every word and gently swaying to the melody created by her own voice.

Priam's eyes filled with tears. "Ask for anything in my power this night and it shall be yours," he said gently.

It was an odd feeling to Alison. Looking out over the sea of hard weather worn faces it seemed strange that they should be so affected by songs. But perhaps the emotional times were so rare, that when they did feel them, these men experienced something more powerful than usual.

"Send me back to the Greeks," Alison said suddenly. She was not sure why she said it, but it was the only thing she wanted. After believing that she might be sold as a slave, or worse taken and killed, Alison felt the sudden need to be back where she felt as if she had friends.

Hector coughed loudly, but Priam smiled. "The Greeks do not win. We sit behind our walls safely and the comforts of home never leave our side." He looked at Hector. "Send her back. The Greeks should have some comfort because the will never win our city!"

The room erupted in cheers and applause. Hector's face was a mask of rage and genuine displeasure but Alison ignored it as she smiled and thanked Priam. She was relieved beyond words.

_Lyrics by Sarah McLachlan (Worlds on Fire)_


	14. Paris

Several days passed without any mention of Alison's return. Her living conditions however improved dramatically when she was allowed to share a small but very comfortable room with Andromache's personal maid, Kassana. The food was better, he clothes were finer, and there was no mention of cleaning or performing labor of any kind.

The room opened into a courtyard and garden where Alison spent most of her days playing with the small children of the house. Silence still greeted her wherever she went. Hector was the only one who said anything to her and his words were never kind. She had gone from one form of prison to another.

Late one night, Alison could not sleep. The air was thick and hot and the birth of a child had called Kassana away for the night. The birth of a child in Troy was cause for celebration and concern. Too many, according to the maid, were born without life. Sacrifices on behalf of the child and the mother began in earnest as the birthing time approached. Without Kassana the room seemed empty and too desolate. It was the first time since her arrival that she was truly alone.

Alison walked into the garden through the doors. A light fragrant scent filled the air and for a few moments, she was content to sit with her eyes closed and simply smell the air. When she opened her eyes, the stars above her shone in brilliant patterns that seemed to dance in the sky. It was silent in this little corner of Troy. Only the small insects that rubbed their wings together filled her ears. Alison found her favorite bench deep within the garden and laid flat on it, watching the stars. She longed to speak to someone again and in particular, she missed Nikko.

There was no way of knowing how either he or Mimis fared in her absence and it was frustrating to think that they worked for someone else. After her own treatment in Troy, she vowed to be far nicer to everyone who worked for her. A smile formed on her lips when she thought about returning. She would find Odysseus, get the crew she needed and be far from this wretched place soon.

Panic seized her. If she left, would she ever understand what the visions in her head meant? She knew she was trying to return home, but home was suddenly a questionable place. Was it Athens? She shook her head to clear her mind and gazed again at the stars. Everything would fine when she left Troy. She smiled again, thinking about how much she would enjoy just the simple art of conversation again.

"You smile as if you remember something very pleasing."

Alison sat bolt upright and scanned the area around her. Then she felt the touch of someone's hand on her neck.

"You, I am told, leave tomorrow under a flag of truce back to the Greeks. Back to Achilles. Is that what you find so pleasurable?"

Slowly the voice became a recognized one. She felt the hot breath, smelled the smell of wine, and felt the wet sensation of a kiss on her bare shoulder.

"Before you return, you should sample what Troy has to offer. You are beautiful despite the fact that you are Greek."

"Helen is one of the Achaeans." For a brief instant, Alison felt mildly offended by his remark before realizing the enormity of the situation she now found herself. She was alone in the dark with a man that no one in the city would dare counter. And it was now obvious what his intentions were.

"Helen _was _one of you. She is now Trojan."

"She would disapprove of you being here." Alison said trying to move away. However she was firmly held in place by strong insistent hands.

"Are you are implying she would care that I find pleasure in the arms of someone like you? You are very mistaken. What other purpose do you serve if not to please those who ask? Is that not the very nature of the hetaerae?" His mouth kissed the nape of her neck. "All wives know what role women like you play."

"I am not your toy," Alison said this time pushing as hard as she could against him.

"You are whatever I want you to be." There was no question and an unmistakable hint of agitation was in his voice.

Alison managed to break free of his grasp and stood up fast. She quickly turned to face him with the stone bench between them. "I grant favors to those I want to grant favors. Not to anyone who asks," Alison managed to say defiantly.

Paris looked at her with a nonchalant expression. "If I tell my father you came to me and asked me about a secret way into the city, do you think he would let you go? On the other hand, I could tell him I found you asking questions of the men about supply lines and shipments of grain. Will he let you go if he thinks you are a spy and not the entertainer you say you are?"

Alison was shocked. He might be right, but she had no way of knowing. What was her freedom from Troy worth? She instantly decided that it was worth the risk to deny Paris.

"Before you answer, Chloe, think about this: Hector is not the only one who can make your life here miserable. Should you stay here, I will make it the goal of every free moment I have to make you wish that you had not declined my offer. I am a chosen son of Troy. My father will believe what I tell him. Just pretend I am your Achilles." He stepped over the stone bench and slowly advanced.

Alison scowled deeply at him but was now less sure of her actions. To deny him could be disastrous to her chances of freedom from Troy and thus far she had escaped the demands of any man but that could change if she could not leave. But to accept what was happening would be both an assault on her common sense and her body. He had no right to demand anything from her. She thought hurriedly of something that would dissuade him.

"I will agree, only if Hector says that I should. I am his prisoner; therefore I should answer to his wishes." Hector had never touched her and she assumed there was a reason behind that. She felt sure that Hector would never touch anything Achilles had touched. As degrading as that sounded to her, it was working to her advantage right now.

"You are a foolish woman, Chloe from Athens. If I take you to Hector, he will be the one to show you what Trojan men are capable of. You think we haven't discussed this?" Paris laughed suddenly. "If you desire him to me, then I will show you the way." He turned his back to her.

Her plan had not worked. The thought of letting Hector touch her, made her feel slightly sick. The way he looked at her with violence always so close to the surface, made Alison shudder involuntarily. She had backed herself into a corner and as much as she did not want to acknowledge it, spending a short amount of time with Paris seemed substantially safer than doing the same with Hector.

"Wait", she called after him. "I do not wish to be taken to Hector."

Paris turned and smiled. He walked back to her, took her hand, and led her through the garden, up a flight of stairs and into a room. It was sparsely furnished but there was a bed. Alison guessed that she was not the first woman to spend time in this room. Paris braced the door.

"I need wine," Alison said quickly.

"Very well," he said. He crossed to the other side of the room and opened a small chest that contained a wax sealed jar. He poured two very large cups and brought one of them to her. The wine was pungent and not watered down as most wine in the city was. When he lit a small torch, Alison felt as if she could not breathe. In his room was a painting that mirrored the one on the wall of the city.

"Who painted this?" She asked incredulously.

"I did of course. As a tribute to the gods. It was painted on the entry wall to the palace."

"May I have it? Please? As a favor to me?" She couldn't take her eyes off the painting and an eerie feeling of needing it became overwhelming.

Paris shrugged. "Make me feel the way I want to and you can have it." Alison's stomach cramped at the thought of what she was about to do. She drank the last of the wine in her cup, asked for it to be refilled twice while listening to Paris speak of his contributions to the war as if he were a hero, and then allowed herself to be touched.

The morning light was cruel and harsh. Alison's head hurt so badly that she could hardly think. She tried hard not to think about the night before at all as she washed her face in a basin and then dressed quickly. Paris was nowhere to be seen, the door was un-braced, and the painting she asked for, was rolled up, and tied on a small chest by the door.

Alison took the painting and opened the door. She kept her eyes cast down until she found the garden. She felt embarrassed by her own actions and could not bring herself to meet anyone's gaze today. She sat in Kassana's room and waited for someone to come and lead her to the city.

Night fell without event, or a visit from anyone. Kassana was still away, and Alison was hungry. She ventured out of the room and eventually found Hector and Paris talking together just outside the small room meals were served in.

Paris looked at her and smiled broadly. He broke away from Hector and as he passed by her, whispered, "You were worth the trouble."

Alison did not have time to ask him what he meant. Paris disappeared down the hall. She turned to face Hector.

"Am I not leaving today?"

"A small exchange will take place in three days," Hector said. "Why did you think it was today?"

"Paris said…" Alison closed her eyes in irritation. She was beyond angry. "Your brother told me that I was leaving today."

"Why would he tell you that?"

"Because he…" She broke off her speech. It was all too upsetting. "I must have been mistaken." Alison began to cry silently. Humiliated was hardly the word she would use to describe how she felt. Tears flowed down her face and Alison lowered her head. Paris was no different from Achilles, she mused in a mixture of fury and frustration.

Alison's tears did not escape Hector's notice. He gave her a questioning look. She was already many steps away from him when he called to her. "Chloe! You came here to eat? Come. Please."

Alison did not turn around. "I am not hungry," she said and continued to walk away. She wanted nothing more than to hide herself in the room until it was time to leave. She could not face Hector now without feeling worse than she already felt. Nikko would never have treated her the way Paris had. A longing of deep and sad need filled Alison adding to the tears already flowing.

Hours later Kassana returned and brought with her a large platter of sliced dried meat and fresh fruit.

"Prince Hector mentioned that you might be hungry. Are you well? You look sick." Kassana poured some watery wine into a cup and offered it to Alison.

"I guess I am not all that well," Alison said finally.

"Would you like to sit in the garden? Some air might help," Kassana said opening the door.

"No! No, I would rather sit in here." Alison absently brushed the hair from her face and sighed heavily. "I think I am a fool," she finally blurted out and sobbed uncontrollably.

Kassana sat on a cushion beside her. "I can not pretend to know what it must be like to be you. You are away from those who care about you. You lived with the attentions of kings and great warriors. But here you are treated badly, given no respect and I am sure it seems no one cares for you." She shifted her weight and took Alison's hands in hers. "But I have never known Prince Hector to be so concerned about anyone beside his wife and son until you came here. King Priam is similarly mesmerized. It is beyond me why they are letting you leave. The gods have enchanted you with a charm that makes men weak when you are near. They ask me always how you are, and if you have had enough to eat and drink and if you sleep well at night."

Alison shook her head. "It is a curse then. I thought Hector hated me."

"Why do you believe that?" asked Kassana.

"Paris told me."

'Paris is not what you would call a great man. He lacks humility and he lacks reason at times. His quest is to find what pleases him and make it his. He thinks of others only when it is too late. He stands in the shadow of his brother. If he told you Prince Hector hated you, then there was some motive behind it."

Alison said nothing but the tears dried on her face. "You are the first person to talk to me genuinely since I have been here. Thank you."

Kassana grinned a little. "I wasn't sure what to make of you when you arrived here. You _are_ the enemy."

Alison laughed very lightly. "We are all enemies to each other, aren't we?"

"Sleep now. Tomorrow, I will personally see to it that you find something to waste time with, until your departure."

Three days passed very quickly. Hector delivered her as promised to the walls of Troy where a three guards and a horse waited. There were no speeches spoken and no tearful goodbyes. Hector handed her a large basket with a lid on it and said: "May the gods fulfill your wishes." He turned and walked into the city without looking back.

When Alison mounted the horse and handed off the basket to one of the soldiers, a feeling of relief triumphed over her fear. The city of Troy was one place she never wanted to see again.


	15. The Color of the Sea

It is often in the quietest moments alone that we understand how noisy our lives really are. And so it was with Alison during her trip away from the city of Troy. The silence of the desert terrain made it easy to reflect, but not any easier to plan the future. Repeatedly she thought of the desperate measures she had taken and what their final costs were. The toll was too much. If there was a home for her to go back to, it must be better than this place. She felt as if the very force of life given to her by the gods was draining away like water into the sand.

Weary and somber, she returned to the Greek camp. Mimis was still cleaning the tent when she arrived. They embraced but Alison was simply too tired to converse. She asked for Nikko, but he it seemed was busy repairing a ship that had been scraped on rocks a days journey away. She found her bed, fell on it, and slept. For three days, she neither ate, nor spoke to anyone. She found solace in sleep alone.

As dawn approached on the third day, Alison climbed out of bed, dressed herself and began to ask the needed questions once again about returning to Athens. Nothing else mattered to her as much as leaving this place with Nikko. It was all very clear. Her visions were becoming more frequent now. They were confusing and difficult to interpret. The visions, she believed, were from the gods, the giant reflecting wall she saw was the ocean. The sign seemed clear; she should take to the ocean as quickly as possible.

It was not hard to find Odysseus. It was even easier to convince him to help her leave.

"I see you have finally come to the right decision. I will find you a crew myself and you will sail in a month."

"A month? No. Sooner. Next week perhaps."

"Chloe, in a month the winds will be right. If you leave now it may take you twice as long to get home."

"I don't care. I want to leave now."

Odysseus sat back and rubbed his chin gently. "Were you mistreated in Troy?"

"I was their slave, and was treated accordingly. Are you going to help me?"

"Did Hector personally hurt you? Touch you?"

Alison suddenly saw through his game. "You will not use me as a pawn to further incite men to fight. They are here; they want to break down the walls, that is enough. You don't need me to be a propaganda tool."

"It is always good to have something tucked away for a day when it is needed. Should Achilles think his beloved entertainer touched by the man who leads the Trojans, there is no end to how full his wrath might become.

Alison sighed heavily. "Help me Odysseus. I want to leave now. When I am gone say anything you wish. But you must wait until after I leave."

"You would leave without even saying goodbye to him?"

"I would prefer it actually." Only a small pinch of conflicted emotion tried to surface. Alison ignored it.

"For the good of us all, I will agree. It has been unremarkable since your capture and I would like to keep it that way."

"No one even thought to rescue me?" Suddenly asked on a whim.

"Rescue? Chloe, how would we even go about trying that?"

"I mean so little to so many," she said bitterly.

"You are wrong there. You were missed. Achilles wanted to barter a trade for you, but with the help of Briseis, he was calmed."

Somehow, that did not seem comforting to Alison.

"Just find a way for me to leave in the next week." She stood up and walked out of Odysseus' quarters.

A week later, Odysseus had proved himself a true ally. He had prepared a ship, crewed her with men, and provisioned her for the trip. The ship also carried dispatches to various places and some treasure.

But Nikko was still not back. Her many messages to have him returned had gone unanswered and Odysseus would not get involved.

"I have done my part. I will not chase a slave for you. Get on your ship and leave, I'll send him later if I can," he had said to her.

Alison however would not be placated. She was not about to leave without him. On the night before the ship was to leave, she waited all night by the outpost overlooking the sea, waiting for his return. But he didn't come.

She stalled as long as she could in the morning to keep the boat there, but by mid-day, it was clear that if she were going to sail to Athens on this ship, she would have to leave Nikko behind. The need to be free of Troy and the self-serving men who fought there, won out in the end. She made a last plea with Odysseus to send Nikko when he returned, on the first ship he could to her.

With the heaviest feeling in her heart, Alison boarded the ship.

The coast of Troy where the beach landing was made to face the city was actually in a small-protected cove. The boats sustained less damage being moored and beached there, than they would have just a few miles away. The boat would follow the coastline until it was out of site from the city and then head into Open Ocean.

Alison stood on the deck of the ship and watched other boats sail past them. The sun felt warm on her face and even Mimis were in a good mood. An uneventful number of hours went by before the captain of the ship pulled the sail in and ordered the ship to stop. There was not time to question what was happening. A large boat with a distinctive sail pulled along side of them and lines were cast to secure them. Alison was going to demand that the captain pull loose of the ship along side them. It seemed like madness to have both ships so close to one another.

"You were going to leave without a word." The sound was unmistakably Achilles' voice.

Alison turned to face him slowly. "What I do is business of my own. But since you are here, goodbye Achilles. May the gods grant you whatever you wish." She was not mean, but she had no desire to be nice to him either.

"I wish you the same. And what if what I wish is you?" His hair blew in the wind like soft spun gold glinting in the sun light. Even now, it was hard to deny his good looks. He crossed his arms and looked directly into her eyes.

"Then may the gods have the wisdom to know which of us needs them more," Alison smiled.

"I will miss you. Not for the reason's you think Chloe. I will miss you because you are truly special. You alone challenge me as no woman has by making me feel for someone other than myself." His face suddenly very sullen and for just an instant, Alison wondered if he was going to shed a tear. Thankfully, he did not.

"I am glad I knew you. I will tell all I know about you and your deeds." She tried not to think about how much she really disliked him.

"I did not abandon you Chloe. I wanted to find a way to get you back, but my voice was solitary." He looked up at the sun and squinted a little. "I just wanted you to know."

"It is of no matter now. I was safely delivered of Troy and I am on my way home."

"Home." He turned his body to face the sea. "I envy you for that." He leaned on his arms over the railing and closed his eyes. "The winds are good today. You should leave now." He pushed himself up, took Alison in his arms quickly, held her tightly, and then released her. "I have a gift for you."

Alison looked at him carefully. "I don't think we should exchange gifts."

"I think you will want this one."

Mimis gasped a little bringing Alison's attention to the back of the ship. Standing on the deck was Nikko.

"I didn't think you would want to leave without that which you treasure most." Achilles whispered to her.

Alison was stunned with joy. She ran as quickly as she could to Nikko, threw her arms around him, and molded her body to his. The joy she felt was a surge of love, desire, and contentment rolled into one. When she turned to acknowledge Achilles, he was gone and the ship was being cast off.

The sails went up once more and the boat sped away from land.

Alison would not let Nikko go, she held on to him continually. "I will never leave you again," she kept repeating. His hold on her strengthened as they slept in each other's arms on the deck. On a ship the size of the one they were on, privacy was not included with the trip.

The weeks passed slowly but for Alison, they were the happiest days of her life. The ship made several stops to islands where the ship was provisioned and the crew allowed to rest briefly.

At the first stop the ship made, Alison and Nikko spent the night on land. Alison told Nikko about everything that had happened in Troy, including the pain of being tricked by Paris. Nikko held her tightly and gently stroked her hair. He kissed her lightly and sang her to sleep. During the night, she woke to his soft kisses. For hours Alison reveled in his touch. A need so deep was being met within her that when her release finally came, Alison collapsed in total exhaustion. She felt truly complete.

A little more than a month later as they neared the shore of a large island, a storm swept the ship onto a reef. For hours they fought the storm trying to get the boat close to land but the storm grew steadily worse and the waves crashed hard against the deck. Alison's stomach heaved and Nikko pulled her into the small hatch that contained all of Alison's personal possessions.

"Stay here!" Nikko commanded. "I will come back when we are safe."

"Don't leave," Alison shouted. A feeling of dread and panic descended upon her.

"Chloe I must help above. Stay here. I will return." He kissed her and quickly scrambled up the ladder.

Mimis was curled up against the wall. A crash threw Alison against the wall of the ship. She hit her head hard and tasted blood in her mouth. The floor was wet and in a lightening flash, Alison remembered who she was and how she arrived here. The bathroom, the mirror, the painting. Mimis had posted the painting by tacking it with tar onto the wall of the hull. She approached the painting slowly wiping the blood from her forehead before it dripped into her eyes. The painting had rearranged. The gods looked toward Thetas and Achilles but Achilles was no longer an infant being dipped in the river Styx; he was a grown man and Aphrodite was guiding an arrow from Paris' bow to Achilles' heel. She blinked and watched as the painting moved again. Alison saw Nikko being swept into the ocean.

He was in danger! Her mind raced and she ran toward the ladder. Her legs slipped out from under her and she hit head again on the floor. Mimis screamed loudly as the sound of a violent crack resonated through the boat. Alison felt water dripping on her face. Slowly the water dropped at first but then it flooded into the hold and Alison began to breathe in water. She coughed and tried to move, but a beam had fallen in and pinned her legs and arm. Water was now pouring into the hold. And Nikko was standing above the hole trying to find a way down. He reached his hand toward her. Alison couldn't breathe, she tried to hold her breath, but in a few short moments, her lungs felt like they would explode. She tried to raise her hand to meet his but her body was pinned tightly. When she could hold the breath in her lungs no longer, she inhaled deeply.

Brilliant light , white and blinding assaulted her eyes. Something warm and hard emerged from her throat, and Alison coughed loudly. Her body felt battered and bruised. Her head ached and her wrists and legs were held tightly.

"She is coming back around. Alison? Alison can you hear me?"

Alison shook her head. Her vision was blurry and she could only make out a white figure.

"Alison, you stopped breathing for while, so we put in the tube to help you breathe. How are you feeling? What is her rhythm?"

She could not answer. Her mouth felt parched and the sudden awareness that she was in a hospital startled her. Alison struggled against the restraints holding her to the bed.

"Relax, Alison. You had some kind of seizure and we had to hold you down for your own protection." The voice said. "I am Dr. Petrakis."

Through a raspy voice she was able to ask: "How long was I gone?"

Dr Petrakis glanced nervously at the nurse beside him. "Gone? Where did you go Alison?"

"To Troy," she responded sleepily.

"I want an MRI on her stat. There could be bleeding inside the skull," he instructed the nurse. She left the room with a nod.

"Alison, you hit your head in the library and sustained what we think is fairly bad concussion. There may be some internal bleeding in your brain so we are going to take some pictures of the inside of your head. Until then, I want you to remain calm and still."

He began to un-strap Alison from the bed. "I don't think the x-rays we took will harm the baby at all, but be sure to tell your ob at your next appointment. "

Alison knotted her eyebrow and looked quizzically at the man standing by her bed. "What?" She was bewildered in every sense of the word.

"You didn't know? It is early… we estimate gestation at 6 weeks. Are congratulations in order?"

It took weeks for Alison to recover physically from her fall, but it took months for her to reconcile on any level, what had happened to her. She was unconscious for only a few hours and yet a lifetime of thing had happened to her. The fact that she was pregnant made her feel as if she had totally lost her mind but the prospect of telling a psychiatrist about what she thought happened, scared her. They would lock her away and give her daily doses of Thorazine for comfort.

At first, she spent so many hours in the library bathroom that the librarians would have to call security to escort her out of the building at night. Eventually, she stopped going in the bathroom; there were no answers there.

She took up a research project that would eventually consume her every waking hour. She learned nothing new about Troy, but she discovered what she believed to be hidden meanings or a code, in Homer's work The Iliad. She wrote several books on daily life during the Trojan war, and co-authored a book about the mythological significance of Achilles. The book she was most proud of was a science fiction short story about DNA from blood, unlocking a time portal. It won two awards.

At the time of the birth of her child, Alison had become a minor local celebrity and had serious plans for a scholarly future. She no longer thought about her time in Troy as a dream, but as a gift of vision. The birth of her child however was much harder to organize rational thoughts around. For whatever reason, she had been given a baby, and for that she could not be ungrateful, no matter unexplained it was. She felt nothing sinister about it, but she couldn't help thinking what her grandfather would have said.

In August of the year following her fall, Alison gave birth to son. She named the father as Nikko and his birthplace as Greece. He was named Alexander after her grandfather. The baby was handsome and strong with beautiful blond hair and eyes that were the color of the sea.

THE END


End file.
